A SwitchARoo
by Mulleb
Summary: Medusa stole the infant daughter of Death Scythe Spirit Albarn, leaving behind the child she believed too frail for her purpose. Fifteen years later, things are getting very interesting.
1. Chapter 1

Mulleb: *Smiling* Hello, here's a second fanfic. This is just a little something I wanted to try out. Oh one moment. *Shouting* Sistine, where the doctor and his equipment! He should had be here hours ago.

Sistine: *Pocking her head into the room a phone up to her ear* Seem like he out sick today.

Mulleb: Go to plan B and fetch Red. And call in Maka and Crona. *After an okay she left and taking her place were the two meisters* There the two of you. Ready for the story.

Maka: *Shrug* I guess, but why did you call us in.

Mulleb: For a blood transfusion. *Get blanks stares* What? The title say it all. This story is about you and Crona switching lives and last I check. The demon swordsman has black blood. *Both made a run for it, but Mulleb grabbed them the collars* Oh no you don't.

Crona: But I don't know how to deal with a blood transfusion. *Maka nodded in agreement*

Sistine: *Came in with Red* He right in here talking to... need some help.

Mulleb: Yes, please.

*Sistine walk up to the two touching them lightly with an electrical charge to knock them out. Several hours later*

Maka: I don't feel so good.

Mulleb: Sorry about that, but it took a lot of blood thinners to keep the black blood from clotting. As for you Crona enjoy not having someone live in you for a short while. As for the readers, enjoy the read. Oh, before I forget the characters will be OOC but still be in character. It a little difficult to explain so just read.

P.S: With the help of Hinata0321 this chapter had been edited.

* * *

><p>Chapter One<p>

Soft footsteps echoed through Death City Hospital's hallways. One of its doctors was making her way somewhere, a box folded under her arm. A woman of average build, her dark, spiky blond hair was dull in the moonlight coming from the long, narrow windows. Her free hand was idly twisting a long strand of entwined hair over her chest. Yellow eyes were deep in thought as they looked at the black-glossed fingernails adorned with bright yellow arrows.

She wore the standard doctor's outfit, an open white lab coat over a black shirt. Black pants stained with a little blood on the legs stopped right above her ankles, allowing shiny black shoes to gleam in the moonlight.

The hallway she was in held a theme to mirror that of the rest of the Gothic city. Its high arching ceilings were supported by tan walls. Long, narrower windows tinted a little by the years filtered in a slightly brown light. Tile floor had been cleaned with bleach and other disinfectants that added their smells to the air. Along with posters promoting health, pictures of famous doctors, benefactors, and Death himself hung from the walls.

All in all it was one of the woman's favorite places to be – though not for the reason most people would have imagined. It was a shame that she would have to leave this institute of pain and research, but she had bigger plans involving the world. Adding in what she was about to do, it would be best if she left town for a little while. Peering out of a window, she looked at the moon; its crazed, toothy grin had blood pouring down, dripping somewhere off in the horizon. If she had her way the world would soon have a similar attitude.

"Good evening, Doctor Medusa," said a voice that pulled her out of her trance. She cursed herself for being careless. Janitors were always a nuisance she had endured over the years. The janitor in front of her showed what the worst of human lives could produce. An average sized man possessing greasy hair and a little brain wore a light blue shirt with jeans. In hand he had a mop and at his feet a bucket full of soapy water. In good humor he said, "Making sure that your patients are healthy before taking off for the night? Don't worry, haven't had to clean up a corpse yet."

Forcing out a laugh she said, smiling, "That's nice to hear. I heard that your kids had been getting into trouble." She couldn't care less for this small talk, but she had built the illusion of being a caring person. Sickening, but people lowered their guard easily enough before a friendly smile and a warm voice.

"Teens will be teens," he said, returning her smile. "All we can do is hope we did our best to turn them into fine adults."

As fine as any idiotic human can be. "I guess so."

"Speaking of kids, how did it go?"

She had momentarily forgotten that the news of her pregnancy was so widespread. Gossip of who the father was had been going around since the telltale bulge first appeared and betrayed the secret. Just a few days ago she gave birth to a son. He was too weak for what she had planned for him, but opportune coincidence had given her what she needed. "A healthy boy," she said, feigning motherly enthusiasm.

"The first born is usually the special one," said he with a wink as he went back to cleaning.

Feeling that this man had worn out his welcome, she said, "I guess, but I should really be going now. Need to clear out my office." Dashing by, she kept to a fast pace until he was out of sight. "Let's get this over with," she grumbled in annoyance.

After several more minutes of walking the maze-like halls she came upon a section of the hospital she rarely visited; she'd never had reason to do so before. Using memory from a map she'd borrowed she navigated until she came to her destination. Even in the dim light she could discern the bold, black letters, 'Nursery,' on the translucent window.

Digging keys out of her lab coat pocket, she flipped through them and with a smirk jammed the right one into the lock. With a turn of the key she was in. Inside the room were cradles in a nicely arranged fashion, facing a window for the new parents and relatives to view. Each infant's gender was indicated by a blue or pink blanket, while a tag on their wrists confirmed who they belonged to.

Right now all of them were asleep, which Medusa was happy for. Last thing she needed was for one of the little brats to bring a nurse a running. Going to the front row she carefully searched through the newborns, scanning for the right one. Finding the girl she wanted, she checked the nametag just to be sure it was the one she desired.

"Maka Albarn…" she said, tasting the name. "Not a bad name, little one."

The sleeping form of the blond haired girl peacefully sucking her thumb took no notice of the person speaking to her. "But let's take care of that Albarn, shall we?" Balancing the box on the edge of the cradle, she removed the lid to reveal a sleeping boy wrapped in a blanket, a fuzz of pink hair just dusting his head. The nametag around his wrist identified him as Crona Gorgon.

Carefully, without waking either of the two, she replaced the girl with the boy.

"Goodbye, Crona," she crooned as she slipped the lid back onto the box. "Enjoy your meaningless life." The boy wriggled a little, but did not wake.

As silently as she'd come, she locked the door behind her and was soon out of the hospital, on her way home. She felt it was one of those days worth treating herself.

Normally, stealing a newborn that was only a few days into this world wasn't a good idea. Being able to nurse the child herself would suffice for that minor problem.  
>Since the child was the progeny of a death scythe and a powerful meister, the risk, she believed, was well worth taking. Either way, in time she would find out if the girl had been worth it or not. With that thought mulling darkly in her head she set off toward the desert, a box folded under her arm, neither she nor the girl to be heard of again for many years.<p>

* * *

><p>Humming to himself, the new father was walking up to the nursery to take another glimpse of his daughter. In his late teens-early twenties, the tall redhead sported a red shirt with blue jeans and tennis shoes. He was in a good mood, for everything seemed to be thanking him for his new role. When he left his house that morning the sun was high in the sky, accompanied by puffy white clouds and an uncommonly cool but welcome breeze. His wife was in good condition and as excited as he was. Lord Death had given him the day off and Stein had sent his good will. To put the icing on all this, he now got to see the cute nurses again.<p>

Strolling up to the observing window, he peered in and looked around. After a few good scans of the room he went over to a counter and asked the young woman,

"Excuse me, beautiful, but I'm just wondering if you moved my child somewhere else." She asked him for the child's name, gender, and what its parents' names were.

"That would be Maka Albarn, girl, and Spirit and Kami Albarn."

Looking through the computer and a list in front of her, she told him his child should be in there. With an eyebrow quirked he said, "Can you please point her out to me?" She agreed to show him and at the window she pointed to a crib at the far right. He frowned. "Um, I'm no doctor, but that isn't my daughter." Not convinced, she said if it made him happy she would check herself just to make sure.

As he watched the woman enter the room, Spirit at that moment knew today gifts were either pitiful attempts to lessen the blow or a twisted way of taunting. As the woman picked up the child his theory was confirmed; a bewildered expression appeared on her face. When she tried to assure him that nothing was wrong he spoke plainly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Find her now. If this is a sick joke, I want the damn bastard responsible for it. If not then I'd like to know who took my baby so Ican rip them to shreds."

Not eager to experience the wrath of a death scythe, she hurried to a phone behind the counter and asked if anyone knew where the girl was. As minutes passed it became clearer and clearer that no one had a clue where she was. Spirit stood there, still as a rock as the world around him rolled into a panic. The only almost coherent thoughts on his mind were how he was going to explain this to Kami.

It took a little while for the news to reach his wife, but when it did she leapt out of bed and stormed her way into the administrator's office. Sinking her teeth into the first person she saw, she verbally assaulted the secretary, demanding to speak to whoever was in charge of this, in her own words, flea-ridden rat hole. Weathering her attack, the man calmly said to her that she shouldn't be out of her room. This served only to get her more riled up, increasing the onslaught of colorful vocabulary.  
>A half an hour of this later the secretary gave in and allowed her to take a shot at his boss – or a bomb, it should be said, for she redoubled her assault on the poor woman. Seeing that mother bear ready to kill, she told her in the nicest way possible that they would do their best to locate her child. It wouldn't help to go on the attack if all that had happened was a little mix-up. At last persuaded to go back to her room, an exhausted Kami had no choice but to leave them to handle it, no matter how desperately she wanted to go look for herself.<p>

After a day of investigation, two things came up. One was that the child was abducted at some time during the previous night. By whom they couldn't say without proof, but with a janitor's testimony it seemed the primary suspect was one Dr. Medusa Gorgon. A respected if unremarkable employee, she had been working for the hospital for the past ten years. She was a person who loved to help others and could be counted on in emergencies. She was also the last person seen going toward the nursery, with a box under her arm large enough to hide a newborn in.

The second discovery made was that the good doctor had made a trade. For the girl she'd given her own little boy, Crona Gorgon. This child was currently being held in Spirit's arms as he walked up to his wife. Lying on a bed covered in sheets, she looked ten years older just then. Her short, brownish-blond hair was a mess and emerald eyes red from dried up tears. A few small scars complemented her wide, round face, though there was a new one within that could not be seen. In a white hospital gown, her slender frame held moderately sized breasts.

Staring up at the bundle her husband had, she said blankly, "That isn't her."

"No," said Spirit, taking a seat right beside the bed. "This is Dr. Medusa's child. For whatever reason she took ours and left her own behind." She kept staring at the bundle, seemingly asking it for some type of explanation. "Kami, there's a full scale search going on right now. They are doing the best they can, but things look grim. The good doctor hasn't left any trace hinting toward where she went. Her office was cleaned out and the apartment she lived in showed no signs of her returning to it."  
>Getting a glare from his wife, he sighed. "Look, I'm not saying that we should give up. I'm saying we should consider our options." By silent communication she reached out to grab the bundle and look onto the child's face. With it held close to her chest she peered down at the small, peaceful, sleeping form. The first thing she noticed was its pink hair. "It's a boy," Spirit clarified to make sure she didn't get the wrong notion. "He's about the same age as… as Maka."<p>

"Does he have a name?" she asked as she brushed aside a few delicate strands of hair.

"Crona."

"Crona Albarn," she said, taking a liking toward the idea. "He can't replace her."

"I know."

With a fond smile she stroked the babe's head, saying, "You did wish for a son."

"I know," he said, lowering his gaze, "but not like this."

Before she could reply Crona's eyelids flickered open. With a yawn he looked about, taking in his surroundings. "Hello, Crona," said Kami, placing a finger in front of him.

"Are you hungry?" Looking up to the origin of the voice, his dark blue eyes stared at the woman beside him. She placed her finger in his hand, and he clasped. Tugging on it, he kept on staring as if uncertain what to do.

"Why would anyone abandon you…?" she asked as she placed a kiss on his forehead. "Worst thing a mother could do."

Managing to chuckle a little, Spirit said, "Guess that means we're keeping him." Being optimistic he added, "When Maka gets back, she'll have a brother."

"That would be nice," said Kami as renewed hope put a grin on her face.

* * *

><p>For months they searched – all in vain. There was no sign of either the woman or the girl. As months faded into years, all but the parents truly gave up. They knew that the chances of recovering her were slim. That didn't mean they couldn't send out letters to friends and family to keep an eye out. So while they waited for any news of the girl, life dragged on.<p>

As soon as possible they adopted Crona and cared for him as if he was their own flesh and blood. As he grew older he showed signs of being different from the other children. His hair aside, they noted a strange trait about his eyes. When he grew nervous or scared, the dark blue of his eyes would shrink from the gray hiding near his pupils. He was always tall for his age, easily being the height of the next oldest age group. Yet he had a thin frame with a small bone build, making him an easy target for bullies.

It didn't help much that he was timid, gentle, and kind by nature. He wouldn't dare to lift a finger, for he wished no ill to others. His parents worried that he would never stand up for himself, causing him to withdraw into a shell. Their worries were relieved when the timid boy somehow made friends with a blue headed, hyperactive egoist.

One day Crona was minding his own business, playing on a swing set in the park with Spirit watching over him. Several older kids thought it would be smart to pick on him by pushing him off the swing and harassing him. Seeing that his kid was being tormented, Spirit got up to shoo the others away when a blue blur came barreling out of nowhere. Dust was thrown up and several seconds later, as the dust settled, the adoptive son of Sid was left standing there on top of the bullies, boasting of how he'd saved the defenseless girl from these villains.

Grateful, though a little insulted at being called a girl, Crona thanked the loud boy and asked what his name was. The boy proudly shouted it out, a name he recognized immediately. Having seen him on several occasions, Crona had stayed his distance because he was so loud. Now that he had helped him, however, he thought to ask Black*Star if they could be friends. To his delight the boy accepted, though Crona did need to inform him he wasn't a girl.

Except for the rare times Black*Star called him a girl, they got along pretty well. The hyperactive boy would often lead them on some quest to prove how awesome he was, while Crona would go along with it. Spirit and Kami agreed that it was good for their son to have found a friend, and allowed them to play together as long as Black*Star didn't get too aggressive.

Due to his friendship with the egoist, Crona's own ego received a good kind of boost. With Black*Star around to encourage and tell him how great he was (of course, not as great as the egoist himself), his confidence grew. He lost much of his shyness and became more outgoing. He still, however, was more of an introverted person.  
>As he matured it became obvious to the scythe meister and death scythe that their son's soul was strong, and so they asked him when he was old enough if he would like to enroll in the Death Weapons Meister Academy, better known as the DWMA . At first the boy was uncertain, for he didn't feel he was up to the task the unique school offered. After some chatting with his friend, who he learned was also going, he gave a positive yes.<p>

Fifteen years from the night of the exchange, after all this had passed, Crona was sitting in the Silver Moon Classroom drawing on a piece of paper as he listened to the instructor's lecture. A tall young man, he towered easily over most of his classmates. Thin as a post, though, he hadn't gained any width. His hair was long, thick, and shaggy, cut up in a jagged fashion.

He wore a white, long sleeved shirt with an open black vest over it. Black jeans covering his lower half were held up by a black leather belt with a Shinigami skull buckle. On his feet were the black boots with white cuffs that he usually liked to wear.

What should have been notes were nothing more than doodles. He didn't know why, but he found it easier for him to learn the subjects by drawing them out. Just now he had a stick figure holding a scythe ambushing a kishin from behind. Below that was an ice cream sundae. I should have eaten more of breakfast, he thought to himself.

Glancing aside to take his mind off food, he checked on his weapon partner. Snoring away, Soul Eater was lying on the desk with his head on his arms. In his usual attire of yellow-sleeved black jacket, brown pants, and headband, Crona reckoned he should have been roasting in this hot weather. As a matter of fact it could be noted the albino was failing the class as we speak. The sun must have fried his brain.

Deciding not to wake him, Crona returned to his doodles thinking little of anything until the teacher said, "Crona, what's the best way to track down a kishin?" Glancing up at the teacher seated in a rolling chair, he put on a faint smile. Professor Stein – best meister ever to graduate from the academy, and sane manic – was once again trying to get him to slip up.

Dressed in a lab coat, a dark shirt, and pants lined with stitches, he was a little smug. One of his hands was cranking the large screw sticking out of his head. Stitches ran down his face, from his messy gray hairline across the bridge of his nose and to the right side of his chin. Neutral gray eyes peered at his student through glasses.  
>This wasn't at all unusual. Stein sometimes amused himself by requiring a zoned-out student to tell him what he'd been talking about. Crona, on the other hand, was always ready with a good remark. The only reason Stein asked was to try to get him to trip up at least once.<p>

Truthfully, Crona enjoyed parrying the crafty teacher's attacks. Putting his pencil down, he answered, "Best way would be to gather information on the target. Even soul perception only works if the soul wavelength is easily detectible. In a small area finding kishin is somewhat easy, but in a much broader field asking around is the best way. By learning when, where, and how frequently it attacks the search can be narrowed down – hopefully letting you find the kishin before it can consume more souls."

"That is correct," said Stein with a smile. Ringing of the school bell put his lecture on hold. "Class is over for the day." Lighting a cigarette, he leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath of smoke. "Remember," he said as he exhaled, "to study for the test on Friday, and tomorrow we are doing another dissection. You're dismissed." With that said the students got out of their chairs and rushed for the door.

Waking Soul by lightly knocking him on the head, Crona said, "Class is over. You can stop faking death now."

As Soul's eyelids slowly parted, blood red eyes lazily glanced over to his meister. Sitting up, he stretched his arms and said, "Alright, give me a moment." Getting to his feet he asked, "What'd I miss?"

"I'll fill you in when we get home." Leading the way out, they were stopped at the door by a bright pink-haired girl.

"Hey Crona," asked Kim Diehl as she blockaded the doorway. "Do you mind helping me with my homework?" Green eyes pleaded as she put on a sweet smile. In a light green sweater, green skirt, a collar, and high black socks she ignored Ox Ford as he tried to offer his assistance.

Shrugging, Crona said, "I don't have anything planned this afternoon." Turning to Soul he asked, "Is there anything I'm forgetting?" His partner shook his head. "Okay, where should we go?"

"School library," she said, grabbing him by his wrist, "right now." Being dragged on his heels, Crona tried to tell her he needed to do something first, but she chose not to notice.

As Soul watched the two leave, a very disappointed Ox asked, "Why won't she ask me for help? I'm the smartest person in this school." Outfitted in a white dress shirt, black sweater vest, tie, shoes, and belt, he had a particular look. Bald except for the two peculiar prongs of hair shaped in horns, he also had thick glasses with shields on their sides.

Rolling his eyes, Soul said, "Probably. But unlike you, Crona isn't going to badger her if she gets something wrong. That, and he won't be begging for a date every five minutes." That was one thing Soul found a little strange about his partner. He doesn't seem to have much of an interest in the opposite sex.

He knew perfectly well that his partner was not a girl. Whenever he joked about it was the only time the level headed boy would erupt into a quiet form of anger. Yet, he did wonder sometimes if he was straight. Being his partner he should know, but Crona was more than willing to keep things to himself. Then again, it could be he hadn't mentally gotten to that point yet. The closest Soul had ever seen him to being perverted was looking at a hot chick the way one would look at a piece of art. Admire its beauty, but do nothing else with it.

"Besides," he said as he walked away, "this is Crona we're talking about. You're getting upset over nothing."

"Yeah," admitted Ox once the albino was gone. "I'm being irrational about it." Strolling down the hall, he failed to notice that the direction Kim had headed was for town, not the library.

* * *

><p>In New York City the inhabitants switch modes as the night falls. In a city that never sleeps, those of the day slink off for home while the nocturnal animals go out for excitement. It also was the time when the predators emerged to prey on the weak and unfortunate. One of their favorite places, locked in by skyscrapers, was Central Park.<p>

The last refuge for nature and real darkness remaining on the island, during the day the place was like any other park. Large old trees stood over the grass that was so rare a sight in the cement jungle. Rocks and boulders of different sizes and colors protruded from the earth or lay in clusters. Large bodies of water were sprawled throughout the park. Sidewalks broke through the grass, while benches lined the sidewalks.  
>Day kept the worst of the scum in their place, leaving the people to enjoy what the park had to offer. Their time was the night, for the scenery provided excellent cover to skulk in. Anyone who happened to venture into the park during dark hours risked being mugged or killed. If that someone happened to be female then rape was a only too much a possibility.<p>

To two low lives, it would seem they were going to have some fun tonight. Hiding behind some bushes, the pair of well-dressed men watched as a rather tall girl walked on by, oblivious to them and perfectly content in whatever world she was in. "Got a flat chest," whispered one of the men from behind a bushy mustache.  
>"Maybe, but she's pretty for a tall girl," said the other man with a black fedora hat that had a center dip crease. "She's young, too. Imagine what we can do with her."<br>His partner nodded his head in agreement, and they stood up from their position. Keeping to the shadows, they followed the girl for a short distance. She showed no signs of seeing them. They came up behind her when she tripped, falling onto her knees. With the little time it took her to get up, they closed in and the mustached one said, "Need some help?"

Getting a good look at her, their lust skyrocketed as they scanned her over. Long, tangled, brownish-blonde hair went halfway down her back. Arms thin to the point of bearing an anorexic slenderness extended from a black long-sleeved shirt, while her legs came out of a black-and-white striped skirt that fell to just above her knees. One hand wore a fingerless glove, while the other was bare. Both were now bleeding, and had they not been so caught up in their desires the men might have seen that the blood ran black as the deepest pitch.

As they bent over her to seize hold, the girl let out a giggle. "Sorry," she said. Twisting around on the balls of her feet, her arms snaked out, her hands snapping around the men's throats. Startled by the action they grabbed her wrists, trying to pry them off.

"Bloody Needle."  
>Two spikes of hardened blood pierced their necks, lodging with a twin crunch into the cervical vertebrae. As blood drowned them they got a glimpse of the girl's face. Two emerald eyes full of insane playfulness showed her inner workings, while her lips were upturned in a feral grin. Ripping the spikes out, she explained, "I'm already late for the party."<p>

As the bodies collapsed onto the ground she saw the fedora hat fall from one's head. Reaching down for it, she plopped it onto her own. Forgetting the souls of the two recently dead, she walked over to a pool of water. Looking cheerily at her reflection, she twirled around a little and said, "Ragnarok, what do you think of my new hat?"  
>Sprouting from her back, a large, muscular black creature gave Maka a good whack on the side of her head. Turning her head to glare into the ping-pong ball eyes resting on either side of a large white x on its face she said, "Bad boy." Punching him right in the chin she watched with mild satisfaction as the massive body recoiled.<p>

"Damn it, Maka!" exclaimed the demon, "Stop shopping for clothes or Medusa will punish us again."

"Ah, but I need the right outfit to go to the party." Ragnarok rolled his eyes as his meister admired herself. "Got to look my best," she said as she pushed aside a strand of hair. "Besides, Mom can go fuck a goat for all I care."

"Well," he said, pointing a gloved finger at the two floating souls, "can you at least hand me those?"

Sighing she said, "Fine." Going over to the souls, she shoved them into the demon's hands. Licking his lips – if he had any lips – he opened his mouth wide. Watching him swallow the two souls whole, Maka commented, "Didn't you already eat a hundred of those today?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Shouldn't your belly be all full?" As the girl placed her gloved handed on her chin, Ragnarok, for not the first time, wondered what the point of wearing them was if she cut a rectangular hole in its palm. "I mean, wouldn't you be like a balloon and keep getting bigger and bigger until you pop?"

"That's not how it works," said the demon, though he could see that she was already picturing it in her mind. A funny 'eww' came out of her mouth.

_Maka_, shouted Medusa's voice in her head. _Why aren't you at the club yet?  
><em>

"I got sidetracked, Mother," she said as she made her way out of the park.

_How many times have I told you not to call me that!_

"Three hundred twenty-two thousand six hundred and eighty-three," she said. With a grin she added, "Should we make that an eighty-four, Mom?"

_Listen young lady. I don't keep you around to sass me._ _If this behavior doesn't stop I'll_... Tuning out the witch's threats by filling her head with other thoughts, Maka said to

Ragnarok, "Mom wanted to say hi."

"What's she going to do this time?" asked the demon, feeling discouraged.

"The usual. Starvation, thirst, experimentation, leaving us..." The last part she paused on and just said, "You know. Nothing she hasn't already done."

"So who is talking? Maka, or one of her many personalities?"

Chuckling she replied, "Don't know. Ask for the host after the party." Sighing, the demon went back into his place, ready to stop his meister from doing anything plain out dumb.

Within the lit-up city Maka kept to the sidewalk, forcing herself to refrain from dashing into the buildings out of pure anxiety of being around so many people. The sidewalks were packed with pedestrians going this way and that. Many of them had an air of needing to get somewhere quickly. She wasn't afraid of them; actually she loved being part of the crazy waves of flesh. It was just that she had a hard time keeping herself from playing with them.

Surely they had better things to do than go beat up a few old geezers. Relieved when she turned into an alley, she made her way through the backstreets till she turned up in a rundown neighborhood. Feeling the pitiful mood of the place get to her, she quickly walked up to a rather nice looking place within the slums. Standing in front of the entrance to Gama's Bar of Pleasure was a huge black man dressed in a stain white shirt and greenish brown pants.

Trying to walk on by the guy she said, "Don't mind me. Just a prostitute arriving late for work."

Placing a hand on her shoulder he shoved her in front of him saying, "No can do, little girl. Run on home to mommy before I have to get ugly with you."  
>Frowning, she said, "Aw, but I want in."<p>

Shaking his head he replied, "Get lost."

Turning her head to peer over her shoulder, she said, "Looks like the meanie won't let us in. Can you please move him aside?"

"Look, girl, I don't have time to..." His sentence was cut short as Ragnarok's massive form towered over him.

"Get lost, bastard," said the demon.

Hand darting for a pistol in his pocket, the guy kept a wary eye on the huge, humanoid form. "Don't say I didn't warn..." The gun slipped out of his hand, landing right in front of the girl as he went flying into a pile of trash.

Cracking his knuckles, the demon said, "Taught that asshole a lesson."

Smiling, Maka bent down and grabbed the gun. "Time to have some fun." Lowering it to her hip, she pushed aside the curtain that served as a door. Coughing, she entered the smoked filled building feeling ready to leave right then and there. The place was a bar combined with a brothel. Waitresses wearing very exposing clothing went around serving the tables. Once in a while one of them would take a man into a room to the side where strange sounds of moaning and pleasure could be heard. In the back was the bar, its tender currently talking to several men.

Tilting the front end of her hat down, she said with a maddening grin, "Showtime." Strolling up to the bar she could hear some lewd men yelling to her in the most inappropriate fashion. One of them went as far as to grab one of her cheeks. Nothing more than holding up the pistol made the guy flinch back. After her showing off the firearm, everyone in the room shushed up. Hands on handles of concealed guns, they watched as she neared the bar.

The guys on the tall stools were ignorant of her, so she took a seat between two of them. "What's your strongest drink?" she said coolly as she placed the gun on the counter.

Glancing between her and the gun, the middle-aged man with a balding head gave a shrug. "Miss, in here women either serve the customers or entertain them. I must ask that you leave at once."

"Aw, come on, Reg," said one of the men, his speech slurring from too many drinks. "A fresh face around here could do some good."

"Yeah," said a man beside her, reaching out to grab her ass. "Why not help her loosen up a little?"

Seeing the hand come near her, she glanced over to the man, her smile once again feral. In his drunken state he couldn't understand it. His buddies could, however, after she grabbed the gun and pointed it at him. A crack of the trigger and the bullet pierced his forehead, cutting straight down the middle, killing him instantly.  
>The sound of the gunfire drew all attention to her. Everyone who was armed pulled out their weapons, glaring at the loony girl. The person beside her who was a little slow said, "What the fuck was that..." Whipping the pistol around she double-tapped him, both shots cutting through the aorta. Before the guy beside him could lift his pistols she shot him down. Being the wisest of them all, the bartender ducked behind the counter.<p>

Laughing maniacally, she turned around in her seat and pointed her lone gun against dozens of others. "Well, boys," she said, putting on her best mobster voice, "looks like only one of us is leaving here tonight. Sorry to tell you," –pointing the gun at herself, "–that would be me."

"Girl," shouted one of them, "you are deranged if you think you'll get out of here alive. With the Mafia, when you kill one of us you get to pay the price."

Humming while waving the pistol about, she didn't care they were insulted that she had zoned out. Coming to she said, sounding quite innocent, "Did you say something?" Pissed off, they pointed their pistols and Tommy guns and fired. Smug was her grin as she leaped off the stool to sail behind the counter. A hail of bullets vandalized the bar within seconds. Bottles of glass shattered, spewing liquid as the shards spilled onto the ground. Holes riddled the wood, sending huge splinters flying. After peppering it for a minute they stopped their fire to observe their work.

They watched for any sign of movement about the destruction, but seeing none they were convinced that no one could have survived. Most of them went back to what they were doing, while a couple of them checked to make sure she was dead. Tommy guns ready, they crept up to the bar. Peering over it, they searched over the mess to find the girl was gone. The bartender was cowering, scratched up, but there no sign of the girl.

"She's not here," shouted one of them. Women's screams from the other room were silenced by gunshots. Rushing over to the doorway, they reached it only to be cut down. A black broadsword with a single white strip running down the middle to large, bright red, inhuman lips sliced right through their rib cages. The hilt of the blade had several gray, spiked bands wrapped around it, and holding it in her right hand was a smiling girl.

Jumping onto their feet, the Mafia men opened fire as the waitresses ducked for cover. Grinning like a madwoman she rushed them, easily evading the shots as she danced her way from table to table. Around and around she went, dancing to the music only she could hear. Swinging the blade with ease she cut down her victims, paying no heed to the wounds inflicted on herself. Whenever a bullet struck her the black blood hardened on impact.

The sword's lips curled into a maddened smile as he watched the prey be slain. As madness took hold of his meister he could tell that right now she was too deep into her role to be stopped. Being a ruthless killer sent to finish off all who hinder her boss's plans, she smiled sharply as red sprays of blood splattered everywhere. Sickly red blood to her eyes. "Ha, ha," she cried with fake malice, but it sounded frighteningly real. "My blood is a pretty black, while your blood an ugly red," she sung out.  
>Falling back to the bar, they concentrated their fire on the girl in hopes of doing something, yet she advanced as if the bullets that were hitting her were nothing more than raindrops. Positioning Ragnarok in front of her to act as a shield, she tried to evade as many bullets as possible. They may not get too far into her skin, but it still felt like she was being stung by wasps.<p>

Nearing those left standing she swung the sword in a wide arc, succeeding in opening one of them up – spilling his guts onto the floor. The others split up to surround her. One of them shot her in the back, a hit she did respond to. She flopped onto the counter; her hands drooped over its edge. Not taking chances, they unloaded their clips into her body. Only after they were empty did they move in closer to see if she was dead.  
>At first she was still, but she started to vibrate. Insane laughter bubbled from her lips as she rolled over and sat up with a lurch. Before they could get away she swiped the blade across their chests, bringing the rest down in one fatal swoop. Down they went, their last sight being that of a girl who could not stop laughing at their demise.<p>

She laughed for a little while, unable to stop. She laughed and laughed until she was short of breath and crying bitter tears. Turning back into his charming self, Ragnarok waited for her to get through her fit. As he waited he surveyed the damage they'd done. Corpses of men and women littered the place; limbs were strewn far from their origins. A cocktail of blood and guts was pooling out among the destroyed tables and chairs, adding its mixture to the spilled alcohol. Fresh souls hovered over their remains, a tempting treat he couldn't enjoy until his meister calmed down.

When she settled down, he said, "Let's eat those souls and get something to drink." Turning back into his weapon form, he smiled as Maka slowly lifted the blade up. Not bothering to brace herself she watched with little interest as her partner's screams drew all the souls into his mouth, sending her staggering back. This done, she turned her head to look at the lone survivor of her attack.

Sliding off the counter and onto the stool, she faced the trembling bartender and said with a cheerful smile, "Now, about those drinks?"

"You can have anything you want," he said quickly at a whimper as he scanned what remain of his stock.

"I'll have something nonalcoholic, while Ragnarok here will have a shot of everything that isn't on the floor."

"Yeah," shouted the demon as he reappeared on her back, "and be quick about it."

Not wanting to die here, he quickly got something together and handed the glasses to the two. Maka took one glance at the water before drinking it. Ragnarok swallowed his cocktail in one gulp before setting the glass back down. Content with himself, he went back into his meister's body while Maka got several more drinks.  
>Once done, she got up and nodded her head slightly to the man. "Have a good day," she called back as she left, walking out as if nothing of what she'd done had just happened.<p>

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><p>Mulleb: Well, hope you like it and before anyone start shooting me... *Hide behind bullet proof glass*<p>

Crona and Maka: *Destroying bullet proof glass with new weapon partners and shouting* What do you do to us?

Mulleb: I knew I should had disappear and let Sistine take care of this. *Sigh* Oh well, let me explain. *Sistine appear with a psychology textbook* Thank you. *Looking through it he came to the chapter he wanted* Okay, normally I feel if I need to explain myself I'm not doing well enough when it come to writing, but I'll give a quick summarize what I did. You see psychologist now a days believe someone personality is effect by two main factor, genetics (nature) and the environment (nurture). They don't know how much each effect personalities so they use identical twins, because of similar DNA, who been separate from birth and see how they compare years later. Turn out that genetics does have a lot of influence. However, if one of the twins listen more country than rock they be more likely to act positive to country than rock music. Of course they never tested out how one would react in an extreme situation like Crona is put through, but what I basically did was remake your new personality base on how you would normally behave and what would happen if put into a new scenario.

Sistine: And since different people react differently under same conditions. We came up with those two possible new personality after a little thinking. So please cool your jets and wait for the story to play out. This is only one chapter.

Crona: Oh... um, you didn't do this for some personal reason.

Mulleb: No, just wanted to try out a new idea. And don't worry unless people review, this is only a side project. I still plan to work on my other story more which I need to get started on after this.

Sistine: Yap, only way Mulleb will keep on writing this if he get reviews. If you like this and want him to continue, flames, good criticism, and any comments are needed. As always have a good day.


	2. Chapter 2

Mulleb: *Bowing like crazy* Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,...

Sistine: *Sweat drop* He thanking all of you who reviewed. Calm down Mulleb it only six reviews.

Mulleb: More people gave their thought about this one chapter than at any one time in my other story. It nice to hear something because last I check I'm not physic and even if I was don't think it would word with computers.

Sistine: All to true and aren't we going to comment on some of the reviews.

Mulleb: Only a few of those that stand out starting with shante1203. *Face planted into desk* I hate to admitted it, but the idea of replacing Kid's skateboard with a shield never occur to me. Now that you mention it I got the whole design down, but it wouldn't have thought of it until now. Thank you for the idea.

Sistine: Next we got Bluerose1275. Thank you for pointing out some of the psychological points in the story. Mulleb actually took a class in psychological and it may be one of the inspiration for the story. Also, we are happy to accept your offer to edit the chapters, but can you send us a link or something. We might have found your account on DeviantART, but we're not sure about that.

Mulleb: Talking about accounts on DeviantART I got one under the name Angel-of-war5. Don't asked why I didn't use Mulleb. All I'm saying that I got one and thank to all who reviewed.

Sistine: Since you guys uphold your side of the bargain we kept our. Here another chapter which we hope you will enjoy.

P.S: With the help of Hinata0321 this chapter been edited.

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><p>Chapter two<p>

Day or night, New York City had only one speed: Fast. It was the same with the volume. Loud. Mix those two together and increase both by several degrees and you got the picture of rush hour during the morning. Everyone is rushing on by; the smartest of people stick to walking or take the subway. If forced to ride a vehicle people aimed to catch a bus or taxi rather than fight the traffic personally.

The atmosphere aggressive because of so many people packed into so small a space, the honking of horns, shouts and curses, and the angry striking of other people rang out perpetually. Construction was always going on, the noise of breaking cement and nails driving into metal causing more than one person to lose a night of sleep. The norm of the city was speed and noise; this was status quo, and if anything caused a break in it you'd either found a soundproof room, were dead, or something had grown louder still than the city.

It was easy to become unknown in the crowds – to become no one, to exist unnoticed as anything beyond one with the crowd. Those who broke the flow of things were frowned upon severely, for everything was in sync if not always progressing in a timely manner. An overflow of bodies, an excess of humanity. Rushing, hurrying, can't stop to take a look at the smoggy sky that they breathe. Don't bother with the polluted water of the harbor – unless it affects you directly, it means nothing. Another man dead is a pity, but even so just another number of the millions. What did it matter?

Perhaps this wasn't the whole feel of the Big Apple, but it made up a good portion of it. The packing of millions of people onto an island was madness in its own right. Cultural breed in that atmosphere was tainted with the social madness poisoning citizens' very bones. Nothing was particularly wrong with this insanity, but as with anything taken to the extremes – it could be hazardous. In a way, the truly mad could blend in with this atmosphere, for in New York City the strange was just another expectation that the social madness could impose.

Out among the whirling tides of flesh, keeping to the shadows, a girl glared hungrily at a hotdog stand. As she watched a man with a huge potbelly serving a customer, she could hear her stomach growl. "Stupid witch," she muttered. "Starve me to death, will she? I'll show her." Right now she was choosing between stealing money from people or simply snatching the hot dogs from the guy. Either would do, but her conscience was nagging about how wrong this was. Silencing it in the same way she silenced her mother's voice, she pulled a quarter out of her pocket.

"Heads, steal hotdogs. Tails, steal money." Flipping it, she waited for the coin to come halfway back down before catching it in mid-air and slamming it into the back of her hand. Heads. She had been hoping to steal the money for more variety, but she could subsist at least for a little while on meat and bread. With a shrug she pulled down the rim of her hat to shield her eyes from the sun's glare.

Moving into the crowd, she made her way casually to a bench before sitting down only a yard from her target. She watched him for a little longer just to see where the food and other items were stored. "Ragnarok," she said to get his attention.

"What is it," he asked, grouchy. He was always grumpy when he didn't get something to eat within the hour after dawn.

"Want to have some hotdogs for breakfast?"

"I'll eat anything, as long we can get it while staying low."  
>Putting her thumb near her molars, she bit down until she broke the skin. Extending her hand over the sidewalk, she let gravity pull blood from the wound. "Control the blood and persuade fatso over there to leave the cart. Then we take it and drag it into an alley." The blood started to gather into droplets on the pavement, and on them a single eye took form.<p>

"Great idea," said the demon as he drove the droplets toward the man. "After being stung so many times he'll have to make a run for it."

The droplets hovered over to the man, unnoticed by the crowd for they were few and small. Once they were within range they formed sharp points before making contact. Like bees they lined up and stabbed into their unsuspecting victim's ass. With a scream the man's hands went to his backside as he leaped away from whatever had stung him.

Turning around full of rage, he looked about until he found his attackers. Strangest looking bees he'd ever seen, but he didn't care. Grabbing a thick magazine off the cart, he rolled it up and swung it in attempt to swat the bees away. From the bench Maka watched, already growing impatient, for the man wasn't running. "Give it a few minutes," said the demon. "Just keep the blood flowing and soon he'll be so overwhelmed he'll have to leave."

Several minutes of adding droplets later, it appeared it wasn't going to be that easy. Determined to kill the bugs, the man managed to strike down some of the blood. For somebody so fat he was really moving, keeping up with the attackers. "This isn't working," complained Maka.

"Damn it. Got a plan B?" He was sorry he asked. Without hesitation she jumped from the bench and bolted for the cart. Ramming full into it, she got it rolling – heading away from the man.

"Hey!" he called out, "That girl's stealing my stand!"

Pushing it until it had built enough speed, she jumped on to it ride it into the crowds. People shouted and jumped as she went by, yelling after her once they got back on their feet. She was indifferent to the shouts. Opening the lid of a boiling pot of water, she frowned and bent over the side in search of some tongs, oblivious to the world around her as the cart screeched along, impartial to people and streets alike. Several times a car was forced to jolt to a sudden stop as she cruised on by, and she was almost hit more than once.

Seeing that his meister was, ironically or not, more focused on eating than staying alive, the demon popped out shouting, "Pay attention to the world around you!" Hearing the honking of horns blare up nearby, he twisted around to see where the noise was coming from. With a shriek of terror he grabbed the cart and leaned hard to the right. Narrowly avoiding crashing into a car, they pulled into the walk way.

Like a bulldozer they plowed their way into the crowds that Ragnarok tried his best to avoid. Evading a woman by shifting right, they went careening off the sidewalk and into the oncoming traffic. "Maka!" he exclaimed as he forced the stand out of the paths of oncoming cars. Still lost in her own world, she hummed to herself and with a happy "There it is!" picked her head up just in time to escape what would have been a rather unfortunate decapitation. Right hand brandishing the tongs she wanted, she eagerly fetched a hot dog out of the boiling water.

Horns were blurting out, urging the manic to get the hell of the way. "Oh, shut the fuck up!" she shouted back at the cars. As they went by people gawked after them, not quite believing what their eyes showed them. The sight of the huge figure sticking out of a girl's back piloting a hotdog stand, while the girl made herself hotdogs, was not a sight one saw every day.

Finishing up with her hotdog's preparation, she had the piece of meat tucked nicely in its bun and topped with ketchup, mustard, relish, and cheese. Taking a bite out of it, she chewed it up before giving a self-satisfied sigh. "Want one," she asked the demon. Then taking notice that they were turning onto the next street, the traffic behind them, she asked, "What going on?"

"Your little stunt landed us in a death trap!" he exclaimed as a car darted by.

"Cool," she said with a smile, "we're racing with the other cars!"

"No, not cool," said the demon as a car nearly ran into their tail. "We're in the middle of the street trying not to get run over. What were you thinking back there?"

"I was hungry," she said past a mouth full of food.

"One of these days you're going to kill us. Hang on. We're turning into this alleyway." Taking a sharp turn to their left, they dashed before a car – causing it to stop, which in turn brought a truck crashing into it. The cars started to pile up, smashing around until the entire street was congested. Leaving a lot of pissed-off drivers who would have liked to know who was on top of that cart.

Skidding down the alley, Ragnarok sighed when they lurched to a complete stop. The stand threatened to tip over, but went back to its wheels with little help. Climbing off of it, Maka had finished her third hotdog when she handed one to her partner. "Let's do that again!" she said as if speaking of a carnival ride.

"Hell no!" the demon protested as he downed the hot dog in one bite. "There's no way we are doing that again." She was a little disappointed, but seeing as she was filling her stomach she was content for the moment all the same. "Check if there's is any money on it."

Doing so, she searched the cart until she found a metal box with a lock. A small bloody slicer cut through it with little trouble. Seeing its contents, she let out a sound of glee. "Look at all the money," she said as she took it, stuffing it into her socks. "With this we can buy some real food. Better yet, donuts or some apples. Some type of fruit sounds good right about now."

"Well hurry up and grab as much of it as you can. I think someone's coming this way."

Looking back the way they'd come, she said, "Oh, people to play with!"

Firmly slapping her upside the head, Ragnarok said, "No, Medusa said we need to avoid being caught. Let's get those donuts instead." She considered slapping the demon right back, but at the mention of a tasty pastry she licked her lips as she stored the last of the cash in her pockets.

On her feet, she heard a voice yell, "There's the guy! Someone stop her!" Sprinting out of there with a huge grin on her face, she thought of it like a game of tag. Not like they were going to catch her. Hungry or not, she could outrun anyone when she put her mind to it. So plunging into the crowds, she ran on through, earning more shouts as she made her way.

After crossing a green light and ducking into a bakery, she slipped to the back of the store where the cashier's counter was. The people who were chasing her, a couple of cops, dashed on by outside, leaving her to her own design. Looking through the glass and the shelves full of goodies, she asked the cashier, "How much do those cost?"  
>About half an hour later Maka, sitting alone in an alleyway, was devouring the contents of the basket she'd just bought. In all she'd managed to steal about a hundred and twenty-five bucks, allowing her to buy a basket, two bakery dozens of powered donuts, and varied of fruit with cash to spare. She and Ragnarok had already torn through half of the donuts, the result being that the girl was now bouncing on the pavement as she ate an orange.<p>

"Calm down," said the demon as he chomped on some grapes. "You're going to wear out the ground under you if you keep doing that."

"So, so, so what?" she blurted out, her thoughts barely outpacing her mouth. "The world can screw itself for all I care. Hey, what's that?" she said, springing up as she spotted something in the sky. "It's a bird!" she exclaimed, giddy at her great discovery. Sighing, the demon polished off his grapes and reached down into the basket to grab a banana. He knew he shouldn't have let her eat so much sugar.

Taking a bite out of the orange, she spoke as she began to pace. "You know that the world is a sphere, right? So if a big man were to come along and kick it he could send us flying right into space. How would that be possible?" Turning around when she was at the end of the alley, she deepened her voice, "Maybe he ate a lot. Mother did say the more Ragnarok eats, the more he grows.

"Yes," she said, picking up her pace, "but why let only Ragnarok get bigger? And if she starves us, we would shrink right? Guess that's why there are midgets – they don't get enough to eat.

"Wait, but she does all the time so that can't be true." Catching something in the corner of her eye she faced the wall to see a spider crawling up. Getting closer to the spider she gazed at it as it climbed up the ninety degree angle wall. "I can climb this wall." Moving to one side of the alley, she stared at it for a moment before running at it. When she was close she jumped and face-planted into it. Falling onto her back and seeing stars, she stared at the sky and said, "Never mind. Makas can't climb walls."  
>Watching this play out while munching on the banana, Ragnarok debated with himself if he should wait for the sugar rush to end. Entertaining as it was to watch, they needed to get back to the hideout. "Hey, Maka," he said, his face was right above hers. "Bet you can't get to the hideout in ten seconds flat."<p>

"Of course I do that!" she said, pain forgotten as a new challenge was placed before her.

"I'll do it in six." If not for the sugar high she would have realized that was impossible. As a cartoon might, she picked up one foot, face forward, her arms bent in away from where she was going and dashed off. She could have outrun a car going thirty.

"Maka," Ragnarok pointed out as he sank back into her body, "the basket."

Running on back and picking it up, she said, "Oh yeah, don't want to forget this." With it in hand she dashed off once more, thinking little else than getting to her destination.

It wouldn't have been wise to tell her at the moment that she'd lost the bet by six minutes, but she did, impressively, cross half of New York in six minutes and ten seconds. It should be noted that she overlooked all the stop signs, pedestrians, and various other obstacles, but hey – she'd still made the suicidal run in less time than anyone else could dream of.

Once she was in front of an old, abandoned shoe shop, she sized it up as if forgetting how to get in. The place was falling apart; the wood boarding up the windows and door looked ready to fall off. Gray paint was peeling off it walls, and many a good-sized hole littered its frame. It evoked in her a subconscious remembrance of some place, but on a conscious level she was more worried about getting to its flat roof.

"Ready to fly?" asked the demon.

"I don't want to be a dragon," she said, putting the handle of the basket over her neck. Jumping onto the rotten wood over the windows she declared, "I want to be a mountain climber." Saying nothing, he let her clamber on up, the wood underneath her groaning from stress as she made her way. In some towns the building could have been considered quite tall at about five stories, but in New York it was a fish among whales. If she lost her grip she might suffer a bruise or a few cracked bones, but the black blood ought to keep her from killing herself.

Slowly digging hands and feet into the structure's holes, she made her way up. Once her hand grabbed hold of wood rotten to the core, and when she put her weight on it she pulled a chunk out. Thrown off balance, her body for a second or two was hanging free in open air. Not at all concerned about the potential of falling, she calmly – at least as calm as one can be on a sugar rush – pushed her appendages back into the holes and kept on climbing.

She smiled when she felt the rim of the roof, and with both arms she pulled herself up over the ledge. Pancake-flat, the roof had taken the worst of the beating over the years. Gaps dotted the place like huge, gaping mouths, while a crumbly chimney had collected dust at it foot. In the middle of the roof was a nice sized building, big enough for two people to inhabit.

Made out of bricks, it showed little less weathering than the stone around it. An antenna stuck out of its roof, while ventilation pipes plugged in at two of its sides. A single window and door rested on its front wall, accompanied by a spray-painted black snake – coincidentally, the local, small gang went by the Cobras. Even though it was visible to her, however, Maka knew anyone who looked at the same roof from the sky or on the ground alike would have failed to see it. Some spell working of Medusa's kept it hidden in case prying eyes thought to seek her out.

Walking toward the door, she peeked into some holes to see if any plants were growing inside the building. A few flowers that would typically be considered weeds made the building their homes, but that didn't mean anything to her. They were pretty to look at, and the only things that weren't in a rush in this city.  
>Taking the basket from around her neck, she came to the door and knocked on it. "I'm home," she said, risking being caught. Medusa shouldn't have been back yet, but she loved to irritate her. It always earned her a punishment, but it wasn't her fault that the witch couldn't take a joke.<p>

No answer came, so she went right in. The interior of the pen house resembled bachelor pad. Entering the living room, one saw a single lazy chair standing across from a small T.V. Between the two was a coffee table – and trash. Lots and lots of trash. Fast food wrappers, bags, and magazines lay scattered haphazardly all over the place. A large fish tank sitting on top of a table housed a milk snake that lay lazily across a log, sunning itself under a hot lamp while it digested yesterday's dinner.  
>The next room over was the kitchen and dining room, where dirty dishes were piling up. Food that should have been thrown away days ago soured on the counters. The table, refrigerator, and oven appeared to be the only things not coated in something.<p>

A short hallway led to three doors in the back. One room was for her, the second was Mother's, and the last held a bathroom. The room at the end of the hall belonged to the witch, and she would not allow anyone in there. All that needed to be said about the room to the right, the bathroom, was that it was a disaster area. As for Maka's room – we'll reach that soon enough.

Normally, the place wasn't dirty at all. The witch was something of a clean freak due to her nature and had a liking for things kept in order. If the place had gotten this bad, it probably meant they were moving again.

Walking the path of the nomad, they had many homes and lived in many different settings. New York was the only place she had lived for the past year. Most of the time they spent a month or two in a region before moving on, or stayed in their main house in the swamps. It had to do with something about staying off the radar for as long as possible. From whom or what Maka didn't know. Who out there could possibly threaten her?

Going straight to her room heedless of the junk on the floor, she opened the door and gave a sigh of relief. There wasn't much about the room in the way of luxury. A ratty old bed filled with holes, with a single sheet for warmth, lay on the far side of the room. A small dresser that seen better years was across from her with a mirror attached to it. On it laid a magazine and a bottle of water, but its dusty surface held nothing else. On the wall hung a lonely poster of some boy band she'd once been interested in, but now only liked to listen to for their music when possible.

She only used the room when she was tired, wanted to hide something, or Medusa locked her in for misbehavior. It was too small for her liking, and she hated being confined to it. If her mother really wanted to get to her all she had to do was… Stomping the thought into the ground, she went over to the bed and lay down.  
>Placing the basket on the dresser, she withdrew an apple to chew on. She chewed away, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for her sugar-generated energy boost to decline. It took several minutes, during which time she fidgeted with an itch to pace the room back and forth. But she waited, and when she hit the wall she gave a yawn. "Here," she said to the demon hovering over her, "have an apple." Tossing it up, she watched the fruit fly into Raganrok's mouth and vanished in one bite.<p>

Before he could grab something else to eat, Maka took the basket and stowed it under the bed. "We should save that for lunch or dinner, if we don't get something better," she said. The demon grumbled a little, but he too was tired and so went back into her body. Seeing that he was gone, she placed her arms behind her head, crossed her legs, and closed her eyes.

How long she rested – she rarely slept – she couldn't tell. While she rested her mind would start to formulate ideas. Old, new, and some that still swirled in progress, meaningless thoughts would float around for her amusement. Uncaged sentiments stretched out of shape, able to assume forms that she didn't control. The end product was its own spawn, creating itself into the form it desired.

In the middle of a thought, she felt her coming. When the new arrival stepped into the door frame, Maka said, her eyes still shut, "Good whatever, Mom, do you need something?"

Standing in the frame was the snake witch Medusa. She had changed little over the years. Wearing a black sweatshirt with a snake-eyed hood and black sweatpants over bare feet, she was eating noodles from a Chinese restaurant takeout box. Her arrow-shaped tail flickered inches from the ground, a living dagger poised to strike down those who displeased her. Sadly, she couldn't simply kill the girl.

"It's fifteen past three," she said before using a pair of chopsticks to shovel some noodles into her mouth.

"Oh?" said Maka, cracking one eyelid just enough to peek out. A trained eye would note that the slit showed a solid black. "You got Chinese food." She leaned her head to the left, seeing if any was waiting for her in the next room. "Nothing for me?" she asked, sounding childish.

"Stop using your soul perception with the black blood," said Medusa in monotone. "You know it harms the eyes." As the girl sat up and opened both eyes wide, only the witch wouldn't have been shocked at the sight. Where the girl's eyes should have been there were two black sockets. With a moment's examination one could tell her eyes were there, but it still tended to be a little unnerving seeing nothing but black.

"Fine." It only took a few seconds for the black to be replaced by the normal green, but it was fascinating to watch. It started with a ripple of green, as if a rock had dropped into a pond. As the emerald green reclaimed its place, the black would ripple away, inward to the pupils where its darkness had originated. "So what do you want?"

"We're going on a trip," said Medusa. "To be exact, two trips. I'm going to Antarctica, while you'll go to Mexico City." Done with the box, she crushed it and threw it disdainfully over her shoulder. "There is some business I need to attend to. While you're down in Mexico, I expect you to be collecting souls."

"Isn't today September the twenty-eighth?" she asked, her excitement clear in her voice. Arching an eyebrow, the witch gave a nod. "Hey Raganrok," exclaimed the girl; her face was beaming. "It's Día de los Muertos in a few days!"

Coming out, the demon, groggy, asked, "What?"

"Day of the Dead!" shouted Maka gleefully as out of thin air a skull mask appeared on her face. "Souls of Mexicans will be coming back to earth for two days."

"That would be why I'm sending you there," said Medusa as she took the mask off her. "For two full days the dead will appear. During this time there will be thousands of souls for the picking." Returning to the door frame, just before exiting she paused and said, "And one more thing – do not go off partying like a couple of idiot tourists."

"Don't worry," said Maka, putting a hand over her heart. "I promise I'll do nothing more than diligently hunt down souls." For a moment the witch turned her head, casting glance. Seeming to be satisfied, she left the room and went into her own.

"We're going to have some real fun, aren't we?" said the demon, his voice full of approval.

As Maka took from behind her back a hand with crossed fingers, her grin told him all he needed to know. Grabbing the basket, she rushed out of the penthouse and straight for the rooftop's edge. Not slowing down, she leaped off the building, her grin magnifying as the distance between her and the earth grew plummeted. Her feet nearly touched ground, but with a jerk two massive, fleshy black wings caught and propelled her upward.

With whoop of excitement at the adrenaline rush, she soared upward, drawing after her not a few New Yorkers' stares. Truly as it may be claimed that the social madness engenders strange sights and stranger people, a crazed girl carrying a basket as glistening dark wings lifted her into the sky was quite truly not an everyday sight.

* * *

><p>Coming from Kim's house, Crona was a little tired from the girl's passion. He didn't often see people get so deep into what they loved, but it was in its own way refreshing. Now that he was done with her, he planned on heading back to the school to see if there was a mission he could take. Things had been a little slow recently, but there with any luck there would be something he could do.<p>

So with his mind somewhere else, he didn't take notice of the figure following closely behind him. With stealth unmatched he stalked within grabbing range, and in one quick movement wrapped his arms around the boy. With a small squeak the boy jump an inch from the ground, the gray of his eyes in one blow overcome by the blue. "My boy is becoming a man," said the all too familiar person, smugly.

"Dad," groaned Crona as he fought against Spirit's viper-like hold. "Why is it that whenever I spend time with a girl you think I'm doing that?"  
>Spirit hadn't changed much either, except one had to admit he was more responsible at times. Wearing his black suit jacket open, a green dress shirt tucked into slacks, a black cross tie, and a black belt, Crona's old man acted far younger than he really was. The glomp could be explained by the father's increasing obsession with finding his son a lady to call his own.<p>

Never mind the little fact he just was divorced by his wife Kami two years ago – Crona did love and care for him, but no matter how you put it he was a cheating pervert with testosterone problems. Even from a young age the boy could easily see that his father had a taste for women. He was always ditching Mom for another, and Crona was baffled as to why he would do it. If he loved Mom, then why would he treat her like a toy that can be set aside and come back to later?  
>For a time Kami had tolerated it, waiting for her love to stop his games. When he kept at his habits and showed no signs of stopping, she did what any reasonable woman would do. Marching up to him one day, she dumped him. Hard.<p>

The divorce wasn't pretty. There was a lot of tongue-lashing, all from the wife, and plenty of attempted reasoning and begging, all from the husband. Yet, the ex-wife stuck firm to her decision, and soon enough they had broken up. Surprisingly, it proved devastating to Spirit; for a period of time he was nothing more than a piece of meat whimpering in a corner.

Through this all Crona had tried to stay neutral, and for the most part he did. He was, he had to admit to himself, a little more on Mom's side since she had every right to be mad at Dad. For a time he was also frustrated at his old man for what he'd done. After the divorce, Mom needed some time away from it all and went out into the world to see its many wonders. It was probably for the best, but two years was a long time for a person to take a break. Through mail and phone conversions the two managed to stay in touch, though, so it wasn't so bad.

In Spirit's case, it took a little time for him to forgive the man, but once he did the two had gotten along quite well. As long as Dad didn't try to make him into what he is, Crona was fine with him – which was why at times like these he questioned his forgiveness of the lecher. "Let go of me," he said as he struggled against the bear hug. He couldn't do much, for his arms were pinned down.

"Don't be like that," said Spirit, his grip growing tighter the more his son struggled. "There's nothing to be ashamed of in discovering the joy of women." People were beginning to stop and watch the not-so-uncommon spectacle.

Feeling his face heating up, Crona whined, "Dad. You're making a scene."

The man noticed the crowd pouring in, but shrugged and said, "So tell me. How long have you been doing it with her?"

Anger was starting to contribute along with embarrassment to the bright red hue on his face. "How did you even know I was with Kim?" The answer came to him in a flash as he shouted, "You were spying on me again, weren't you?" His face now burning with a solar passion, he asked, "What did you see?"  
>"Right at the end, the goodbye kiss," said the father, having the indecency to sound disappointed. "Doesn't mean much, for if I were to catch you in the act I'd just pull you to the side and give you a talk before letting you continue."<p>

Because of his red face no one could tell his tense shoulders had loosened. Thankfully he didn't know and Kim wouldn't need to worry. Still, it upset him that his father was so open about it. By tomorrow everyone would be talking about them. Oh well; the girl would be as embarrassed as he was, but this just meant they had to be more careful.

Before his last shred of dignity could be torn away, a voice he knew all too well came to the rescue. "Hey, look," it shouted, "there's a bunch of hot models in bikinis coming this way."

This got Spirit and not a few other guys in the area to look. "Where?" they exclaimed. As Spirit looked about his arms uncoiled around the boy enough for him to drop right through. Once he was out of his father's grip he tore into an all-out sprint, not daring to risk the chance of being constricted again. After the disappointment of not finding any barely-dressed babes, Spirit turned his attention back to his now empty arms. "Crona," he said as he put one hand over his eyes, "where did you go?"

A dozen blocks down the road, Crona was bent over, his hands on his knees as he exhaled heavily. "Thanks," he said, wiping off a little sweat from his brows. Straightening up once he could breathe with relative ease, he grinned at the blue-haired assassin. "Thought I was going to die from embarrassment back there..."

Black*Star jabbed his thumb up in an okay signal while he grinned, saying, "Hey, what kind of big man would I be if I left my little friend to suffer." Even though he talked big the boy was short for his age, as it was all too obvious when the two stood side by side. His blue, spiky hair flared above arrogant brown eyes. Dressed in a black shirt with a cone-like collar, a white, bumpy scarf, white shorts, fingerless gloves, and black-and-white tennis shoes, he was at least dressed fairly enough for his assassin role. In reality, he was probably better suited to play a hot blooded brawler than a cold blooded killer.

"So what was your old man yelling about back there?" he asked as he leaned into a wall, his arms crossed.

"He followed me to Kim's house and saw her give a peck on the cheek," said Crona with a sigh as he sat down on a wooden crate. For a moment his friend's face lit up with a smug smirk.

"It wasn't what you think."

"Oh," said the assassin, his voice ripe for teasing, "I'm sure it was nothing." Glaring at him, one of Crona's eyebrows twitched a little. "I'm only kidding," he said, raising an arm in defense. "If you're saying nothing happened then nothing happened." His arm fell as he added, "But really, the only one who would care if anything was happening between you two is probably Ox."

Rolling his eyes, Crona said, "Easy for you to say. You're the attention hog who always wants the spotlight."

Shrugging, the assassin looked up to the sky. "So where were you heading before being attacked?"

"To the academy. Plan on going on a mission soon."

"I got one for you," said Black*Star, still gazing at the sky. "Sid is heading to Mexico soon for that Day of the Dead thing. Each year he and a group of meisters go there to ensure that nothing interferes with the event. I would go myself, but something's shown up as of late. Anyway, he should be hanging around the school right now if you're interested."

Smiling, the pink-haired boy said, "Thanks for the info." Getting up from his seat, he stepped forward and extended his fist. From his position his friend also extended his fist. Bringing their fists down on each other in turn, they bopped them together twice before grasping in a handshake. "Say hi to Tsubaki for me," he said as he let go of the hand. "And keep Dad off my back."

"Can do," the assassin said with a cheesy grin.

"Crona?" yelled Spirit, sounding a little too close for comfort.

"See you later," shouted Crona as he made a sprint toward the school. Shaking his head, Black*Star headed toward the oncoming Spirit to mislead him from his fleeing friend.

At the bottom of the school's steps Crona, now walking, found Soul reclining at it base, his back pressed against it. Staring up at the skies to watch the clouds go by, he said without turning his head, "Here for the Mexico thing?" He got a yes. "While you were with Kim I walked around a bit before running into Sid. He asked where you were and I told him. When you weren't at the library, he sent Black*Star out."

"I'm here now," he said, suppressing a grimace as he scaled the stairs. "Where is Sid?"

Rising from his position, he followed his meister and said, "He's in the classroom, right where he said he would be."  
>Detecting the meaning behind the sentence, Crona said, "Didn't know my personal business is yours." There was no reply, but he didn't need one. "Did Sid give any detail about what we're doing?"<p>

"No; he wanted to know if you were interested first. All he said was it would be good for us if you agreed." They didn't speak the rest of the way. Glancing over to his meister, he inwardly sighed; he knew the routine. They were friends of a sort, but whenever they hung out his meister would keep his thoughts to himself. He wasn't much for conversation, only really talking freely with Black*Star. That probably made him the only person alive who could get in a word edgewise with the assassin.

So they entered the classroom in silence, finding Sid sitting on a chair behind the desk with a large group of other meisters with their partners around him. His partner Nygus was sitting beside him, her blue eyes poring over the well-drawn out map of Mexico. Green cargo pants and military boots covered the lower half of her body, while her upper torso, arms, and much of her face were wrapped in bandaging. A tattoo was imprinted in the dark skin on her right shoulder. Black hair was done up in dreadlocks, complementing the mummy look she bore.

Though mummy-like she was alive, unlike her partner. To be precise, he was undead. After being killed by a Statue of Liberty figurine to the forehead and brought back from the dead by Stein, the man of once dark brown skin was a pale blue. Strong arms were covered in tattooed lettering. His face was squashed like that of a pig, and his forehead protector covered the hole underneath it. His outfit consisted of a sleeveless black flak military jacket, combat pants, and combat boots.

Turning to face the newcomers, he nodded and said, "It's nice to see you, Crona. So Black*Star told you about what we're doing."

Taking a free chair the boy said, "Only that you are heading to Mexico for the Day of the Dead." "Yeah," said Soul as he sat beside his meister, "we're going on vacation or something."

"Unfortunately, no," said Sid as he turned to the chalkboard. "As you can see, this is a map of the country in question." Placing his hand on the diagram, he started to trace Mexico's northern border. "If any of you are familiar with this holiday, you probably know why we're going. However, seeing as some of you here know little about it I'll give a quick description."  
>"The Day of the Dead has been celebrated for centuries. A mixture of European and per-Hispanic culture, it's a day honoring the dead. Each year, after months of preparation, starting on the first of November people celebrate during the day while visiting their relatives at night."<p>

"So," said a meister, "what's in it that requires our capabilities?"

Scanning the group for whoever had spoken, Sid said, "The reason is that during the night not only do the living pay their respects to the dead. The dead, in the form of ghosts, come back to visit the living." That got the greener meisters talking, while Crona and Soul sat there taking in the information. "It isn't known how the souls of the dead are able to do this, and if Lord Death knows he keeps it to himself. All we do know is that for a spirit to walk the earth it must bring its soul out of its grave to form an image of itself while it was alive. In doing this, for that one night the spirit can go out to visit the friends and family it left behind."

"But by doing so," Nygus picked up once her partner was finished, "it leaves itself vulnerable to being eaten by a kishin." Taking a piece of chalk, she started the mark the map with circles. "Both the living and the dead understand the risks and are willing to take them, but due to this mass rising of souls Kishin from around the world flock to the country for easy picking. This is where we come in." Stepping away from the board, she pointed to each circle and said, "This is an area a team of several meisters will be responsible for guarding. Depending on size of the state and population, your area may include more than one state."

"Be warned that there will be plenty of kishin to go around. They attack at night in force, and it's not unheard of for some to even group together in a temporary truce to protect themselves. They know we are coming and are ready to fight. If anyone here believes they're not strong enough or just not ready, now is the time to leave this room."

No one made a move to the door. "Seeing that no one's leaving," said Sid as he took out small pieces of paper and a box of pencils. "To determine the groups, we'll have the meisters write their names down on a slip of paper. Drop it into the box Nygus is holding." Each person did so, even Sid, and placed their papers in the box when Nygus came by.

"Okay. Just to get things started, whoever the first three names drawn are will be covering the Federal District of Mexico City." Without looking, he plucked out three slips and looked over them. "The following three, Crona, Treou, and I personally will take the sector." At the mention of his name, Crona glanced over to his partner and grinned, getting a smirk in return. "If your name has been given, go home and pack for tomorrow. An hour after dawn, we're heading out."

As the two got up they looked about to see who the other two were. Standing across from them was a bleach, blond haired boy with yellow eyes in loose-fitting clothing. His partner was a little taller than the average girl, with dark brown hair tied up into two buns and dressed as if she was going surfing. As they headed for the door, the blond spoke as they rushed on by, his accent something of a mix between German and Russian. "See you out in the field."

Crona gave a wave of his hand while his partner said, "Yeah, I guess." The two went home and packed for the upcoming assignment, thinking it was going to be interesting. They couldn't have had any idea how right they were.

* * *

><p>Sistine: Sorry, but no interaction with Maka and Crona yet, but next chapter there will meet each other.<p>

Maka: Hey where Mulleb go.

Ragnarok: Yeah, I like to give him a piece of my mind for making me this lunatic babysitter.

Sistine: He's went off somewhere saying something about getting dinner. As for you, you're not her babysitter. You're something more than that which I'm not sure what. Maybe a weird brother and sister relationship. *Shrug* As far Mulleb concern your not going to be the same Ragnarok for you really think Maka would act the same as Crona did.

Ragnarok: Whatever he did I going to kill Mulleb for this.

Sistine: Maybe next time *Mutter* when I'm not around. As for the readers hope you enjoyed the read. As always flames, good criticism, and fun comments are welcome. Have a good day.


	3. Chapter 3

Sitting at a table, tending to a violet morning glory, a brunette teenage girl wearing a light blue sun dress was humming to herself when Maka and Crona came in.

Maka: We're here Mulleb, can you now tell us why... Wait, your not Mulleb.

Daisy: *Facing the two with a smile* No, I'm Daisy. And you're Crona and Maka, no?

Crona: Yes, we are but where is Mulleb.

Daisy: *Getting up from her seat she handed them a sheet of paper*

Note: Dear Soul Eater Cast, Me and Sistine have gone off somewhere. While we're gone we left Daisy in charge. Please treat her kindly and try not to harm her friends. P.S You'll learn who her friends are soon after meeting her.

Maka: So you're one of Mulleb character.

Daisy: *Nodding* And you're the nice girl with angry usages and the boy who have a terrible mother. *Hug Crona and cry a little* It so mean how that mean old witch treat you.

Crona: *Blushing* It's alright, but shouldn't we get things started.

Daisy: *Let go of him and wipe tears away* Oh, I almost forgot. I think I'm suppose the say to the readers hope you enjoy the story. Plus, Mulleb like to thank Hinata0321 for editing his chapters. He would like you're opinion on how well she did. So... enjoy this chapter.

* * *

><p>Chapter Three<p>

Located in the Valley of Mexico, Mexico City stood supreme, dominating the area with its size. Much like New York City, it was a bustling metropolis housing millions of people within its borders. Normal activities, however, had been disturbed by the holidays. November first marked the Day of the Dead – the day when long-missed relatives came to visit their families and friends. Like every year the people had poured a tremendous effort into the celebration's preparation, all of them excited to relive, for one night, old times.

But it was day at present, the sun huffing away, beating down with rays of heat as morning turned to noon. During this stretch of time, the final preparations were made before sunset. It was on the first day of the two that lost children would arrive, so people gathered toys that the child might have loved to play with while he or she had lived. They would set them up on altars within the houses before a picture of the deceased, food, toys and candy set upon it. Altars can ranged from small to quite large, and for some people put hard work into it turning them into pieces of art.

Since today was a celebration, people gladly partook in the festivities. Feasts or parties had been prepared for the living, and specially made food, cooked over the past few days, was brought out for the dead. In smaller towns or villages people would be let in to enjoy themselves. Most would share in reminiscence about the departed, though a few of the younger folk would just pop by for some tequila. With the city being far bigger, those who were close to the dead would be allowed in. Didn't mean there wouldn't be some partying.

Heck, half of the city was dead. Everyone was rushing about getting ready for the big night, all of them dressed for the chilled weather that the settling fall had brought with it. All the businesses and shops were closed except those most needed, which would be shut down themselves once the sun had gone. In the larger cities children would soon be going around in costume door to door, knocking and asking for gifts from candy to money. All in all, as the daytime drew to a close, each and every person scattered in the various parts of the country were getting ready in whatever ways their region had always done, and always would do.

As for the visitors and tourists who came to watch the events unfold, they waited patiently; all of them looked forward to seeing the turnout of this year. Each year there were similarities and differences, some depending which region was visited, but the biggest reason was to see the spirits. They were often told the experience was an enjoyable yet eerie one, watching the dead cross into the realm of the living. In some ways it even assuaged people's worries about life after death. However, to prevent the holiday scene from being intruded upon by kishin, meisters must come as well to see that things didn't get… messy.

At the moment the meisters and weapons could relax for a bit, for their work wasn't to begin till nightfall. So, standing in front of a restaurant in a gray, button-up trench coat, Crona waited for his partner to bring back their dinner. He was watching the parade that was going by, the theme being that of Christian saints and other major scenes from Biblical times. At nightfall the parade theme would turn to that of death, celebrating it as the parades led the march to the city's many graveyards.

Many people were out in the streets watching it go by, all of them with an air of joy wrapped around them. The meister couldn't help but grin, for this was different from the somber, melancholy way that the rest of the Western world typically viewed death. Turning his head at the sound of someone chewing loudly, he found Soul coming on out; a burrito with a bite missing from it was in one hand, while in his other a burrito was unharmed.

Smiling, Crona said, "A burrito? Really?"

Shrugging, the albino replied, "What better a place to get Mexican food than Mexico itself?" He handed the untouched burrito to his meister as he watched the parade. "After this we can get one of those sugar skeletons, or maybe some chocolate for dessert…"

"I guess," said the meister as he looked over the food in question. "Is there anything spicy in this?"

"It's mild by Mexican standards," replied the weapon. Relenting that the best way to find out was to eat it, Crona took a decent sized bite. As the spices danced on his tongue Soul said, "Can't wait till night. We're going to bag so many kishins' souls." Crona gave a nod, though in truth he was a bit worried about what Sid had said yesterday.

_Out in the lobby of their hotel, the three meisters and their weapons were gathered around a square table. All of them were sitting down, Soul and the girl Clair chewing on some jerky they'd brought along. Sid was looking between the two younger meisters, both of them in turn waiting for whatever Sid needed to say. "Hope you're enjoying the stay," said the zombie, his face unreadable, "because tomorrow is when the real action will begin."_

_"Action?" said Treou, his voice brimming with sarcasm. "The closest thing we got to action around here was when Clair saved that cat from being run over." Glancing to his partner, he muttered, "Nearly got killed over the stupid thing."_

_"Don't want to sound like we're the betters here," said Crona as he stretched a little, "but I haven't heard of any attacks since we arrived. I know that a kishin can stay in hiding, but with the way you made it sound earlier we were expecting hoards of them to be running around. Surely one of them would have slipped up by now…?"_

_"That doesn't necessarily mean we would've heard about it," stated Sid, grimly. The two students glanced at each other, puzzled, before looking back to the zombie for answers. "There is more than one reason to be cautious tonight. As much as we like to downplay kishin as single-minded monsters driven by madness, they're not always so easy to predict." Leaning back in his chair and propping his boots on the table, he continued, "I was never was the kind of man to encourage needless fear, but as tomorrow is the start of the holiday I might as well warn you of some things."_

_Having the strangest feeling that someone was staring at him, Crona twisted his head around uneasily to find that someone indeed was. There wasn't much to see of the guy, for his face was hidden under a sombrero and scarf, the rest of his body tucked under a red-and-green cloth poncho. The only thing Crona could really see of the guy was a leathery hand gripping a bottle of whiskey. "That there might be a kishin," said Sid simply._

_Turning to face the zombie, Crona inquired, "Might?"_

_"Do you have any talent in soul perception?" The shaking of a head. "None of us here do, unless someone's keeping it a secret. Even if we could confirm it, we can't just attack him."  
><em>

_"Why not?" asked Soul. "We're here to get rid of them, aren't we?" That was a little louder than necessary, and swiftly earned his party the cold sensation of every eye in the room landing on it.  
><em>

_Sid and Nygus watched as the four glanced nervously at the people around them. "Meisters' history within this country has been… complicated," he said once the others turned their attention to him. "To them, we're an unwanted but essential security force they wouldn't mind doing away with. Unless we know for sure that the guy over there is a kishin, if we confront him and it turns out he isn't… We'll be in trouble, to put it bluntly."  
><em>

_"So we're going to be dealing with demons in disguise all night tomorrow?" checked Crona.  
><em>

_With a nod, Sid said, "Attack only when it's needed or you're absolutely positive. You also have to be careful with collateral damage. There are going to be a lot of people out and about, so working around them will be difficult. Just try to do your best to keep the damage limited…" _

"Well, this is going to be fun," he muttered to himself.

"What did you say?" asked Soul as he finished off his dinner.

Broken from his train of thought, Crona shook his head and said, "Um… if you want some dessert, you can get something without me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at the barely-touched burrito in his meister's hand.

"Yes," he insisted, not taking his eye off the floats. Soul gazed at his partner a moment before giving a shrug. Walking off to a nearby stand, he looked through the many items until he found what he wanted. Then he had to bargain with the stand's owner for the right price.

As this took place, Crona kept on watching the parade and took a small bite from his food as time slowly ticked by. Somewhere off to his right, he heard someone yelling. Curious as to what the commotion was about, he turned to face it just in time for a girl to collide with him.

Caught off balance, he went tumbling to the ground on his back, the girl falling right along with him. His head connected with cement in a slight but jolting knock; the moment he closed his eyes, he felt the separate pain of something from above banging into his head. Quickly as it came, the pain receded in a few seconds. Opening his eyes, Crona found with surprise that the sky had turned to an emerald green… he must have hit his head hard. Then he realized he wasn't seeing the sky at all, but two blinking eyes that were were as dazed and disoriented as he felt.

Those eyes… there was something familiar in them, something Crona's groggy mind couldn't quite place.

For a second that spanned perhaps an eternity, two pairs of eyes stared into one another, each stealing the briefest glimpse of the other's soul. As long it lasted, it ended when someone shouted something foreign to his ears – yet the girl understood every word coming out of her pursuer's mouth. She scrambled off of the boy as quickly as possible, rushing out of sight.

Promptly noting that he was free, Crona shifted, got back on his feet, and placed a hand gingerly on the back of his head. A small bump was already starting to form, but as he scanned the situation immediately before him he put concern for his wellbeing on hold.

A tall girl of about his age, thinner than he was, was in a panic as she snatched up the food scattered over the sidewalk, returning it to a basket she must have dropped in the confusion. She was dressed well, but something in her look echoed of one who ate rarely and bathed less. Coming from the same direction she had, a small group of pissed-off men were shoving through the crowd, catching sight of this disheveled, flustered specimen and heading intently her way. They were fairly large in build, and didn't come off as all too friendly to begin with. Glancing between them and the girl, Crona gave a shrug and stepped in front of her.

As his shadow fell across her, she looked up from her work in surprise that the boy she'd just rammed into was shielding her from the goons. He stood there with a frown, arms splayed from his sides as the group surged right toward him. Not taking much time to marvel at the unexpected kindness, she went back to her task, just hoping the boy could hold them off long enough.

Before she was done they were upon them; the biggest of the group, raising a brow at Crona's protective gesture, walked up until he towered over the boy. "Get out of the way," he said, putting a hand on the meister's shoulder in preparation to shove him aside.

Grabbing the man's wrist, Crona spoke calmly as he lifted it off. "What is the problem here?"

"The problem," exclaimed the man "is that that little bitch behind you came to our shops and stole our products." The girl flinched at his mention of her in so harsh a manner, but did not stop what she doing.

"That can be easily resolved. Can't she just return the products she stole?" Hearing his words, the girl gave a quick nod of her head as she stood to present the basket to the man. With a snarl he slapped the basket from her hands, sending it flying into the street.

"No customer will buy damage goods!" he yelled out. That being so, to the girl's hungry eyes anything edible was at the moment priceless; she dashed out into the street, scooping her treasure up before it could be trampled or taken by someone else, and darted back behind the boy's back. Somehow, she had the feeling he would help her out of this. She flinched once more as the man spat, "I will have reparation for the trouble she has caused, even if it means sending her straight to jail."

Glancing over his shoulder, Crona watched as the girl looked at him with those oddly familiar emerald eyes, silently pleading for him to help. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and said, "I'm sure we can reach an agreement peacefully, at least without anything like that. How much does she owe you?"

"For all of us together, I'd say she owes about a hundred and twenty-five pesos."

Nodding, Crona took out his wallet and quickly withdrew the requested sum. "I'm sure this will do." Handing it to the somewhat impressed man, he watched as he looked over the slips of paper. "It isn't counterfeit, if that's what you're worried about." Once the man was convinced that the currency was the real deal, all he did was give a nod to the boy before he and his group went off.

Crona waited a moment; then, with a sigh of relief, he turned around to face the girl. Taking out some more cash, he placed it in her basket saying, "If you can avoid it, try not to steal anything else. Please use my gift wisely." A bit stunned, the girl stood there, not a bit certain what to say.

"Thank you" was what she decided on before running off into the crowds and vanishing swiftly as she'd arrived, leaving her generous benefactor behind.

Shaking his head, Crona turned his attention back to the parade. Noticing Soul grinning smugly out of the corner of his eye, he said, "What?"

"You're too kind for your own good," the shorter boy said as he tossed a small candy skeleton, in sitting position and sporting a sombrero. Catching the sweet, Crona glanced over it before gazing questioningly at his partner. "I know you didn't want one, but I don't think you're gonna want that burrito anymore." He pointed to the ground, and the meister traced it to the squat piece of tortilla. Squashed, its insides splattered on the cement as hurrying feet trampled it.

"Got any money I can borrow?" he asked, slumping. His partner gave a nod, and together they went into the restaurant. This time the meister was picking out his own meal.

* * *

><p>"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" exclaimed the demon as Maka took a breather, sitting down on crisp, dry yellowed grass. They were currently in some cemetery, an enclosure upon the earth of which many and various gravestones had been erected. Two or three tombs also helped to house the dead. At present, their only company resided in some flowers and candles arranged on each grave. People wouldn't start arriving until the sun had set.<p>

"Shut up," the girl said as she picked up her basket. "Not like I meant to crash into the guy. Besides, look at all the money he gave us."

"So?" said the demon as his meister took stock of the damage goods, "The food is damaged!"

Rolling her eyes, she plucked out a flattened piece of chocolate and flicked it into her mouth. As she chewed it up she remarked, "Doesn't taste that bad to me." Giving the basket to Ragnarok once she'd collected all the pesos, she counted them before figuring, "We've got several days of meals if we don't blow it." Shoving the currency in a wad into her pocket, she looked around, finally taking note of their surroundings and wondering where all the souls were. "How long does it take for the sun to go to bed?" she asked no one. "The summer days growing shorter, winter night growing longer – doesn't the sun know that?"

Not having an answer for the girl, the demon stayed absorbed in his search for something that wasn't bruised or damaged. As she sat there and looked to the sky, she said, "I'm bored." Getting to her feet, she took off her hat and started to twirl it on a finger as she walked idly around. Having nothing better to do, she stared to read the inscriptions on the gravestones.

After a few minutes of trying to read names she could hardly understand, she crossed to the edge of the cemetery. A tall metal fence, its upper reach lined in points, cut out a boundary between it and the rest of the city. The cement of the sidewalks ran right outside the fence's reach, and few people occupied it right now. Ragnarok took one look up before handing the basket to Maka and melting back into her body. "You going to check on those powerful souls?" asked the demon from within her.

"Wasn't thinking about it," she said as she stood in front of the fence, a hand resting at its bars, "but that would be a good idea." Without a thought she turned on her second sight, the sight which allowed her to see souls for miles around. It came naturally to her at this point, for one of her favorite pastimes was to look at living souls. When laid bare, the soul had a lot to tell.

As the world itself drained of all color but for a dark blue, the fence in front of her became nothing more than white outlines, along with all the buildings and other things she could see. Yet the souls of millions would be seen as a light blue; together most of them looked the same. There were exceptions, for she could also see dozens of reds among the blue. Those were the souls of kishin, if she recalled correctly.

Then there was the handful of people whose souls stood out among the others. Two of them stood out like a flame, strong souls she might want to look into later. The other three were not of much interest. They were strong, she supposed, but they wouldn't provide much entertainment. However, the last particular soul had been bothering her all day.

Next to one of the blue souls that stood among the powerful was a purple one. When it came to individuals there were differences, but overall the human race's soul color was blue, always blue. A purple soul marked that of a witch... could it be the black blood was finally messing with her eyes? She hoped not, and she actually doubted it. Maybe it was one of Mother's helpers, or a local witch here on a personal agenda.

"Anything new?" asked the demon.

Sitting down again with the basket in her lap, she said, "Nothing of interest. Kishin are still hiding, the powerful souls are doing their own thing, and the cowardly frog and wolfie are nowhere in sight."

"Why do you think Medusa sent someone to keep an eye on us? I'm sure she has better things for those two to do."

"Yeah," said Maka with a cynical smile and a roll of her eyes. "Like she trusts me at all. I bet whoever it is she's got on us is in seeing distance with their Soul Protection up. Wouldn't be able to know they were there unless they dropped it." Glancing at the sun, whose eyes were just starting to droop, she said, "Got a couple of hours to kill, anyways. Let's see if one of the kishin would mind playing for a little while."

* * *

><p>As the last rays of light faded below the horizon, the moon was left hanging in its place, grinning madly as it usually does. People below its watchful eye were wrapping up the day's chores, closing down shops, and putting the last touches on altars. Those who would be in the evening parades donned their costumes and makeup, while plenty more just did so for fun.<p>

Standing off out of the way, Crona and Soul watched a year of preparation coming together. "About time," said Soul as he adjusted his band. "Getting tired of doing nothing..." Nodding in agreement, his meister kept a steady gaze forward as if expecting a kishin to pop out in front of him at any given moment. "Calm down," said the scythe as he gave his partner a pat on the shoulder. "Keep a cool head and we'll be alright." The meister responded with a grin, knowing that his partner was right.

Once the sun had set and night veiled the land, the moon offered its dim light for the night's events. It started off with the banging of drums. Leading the march was a band decked out as skeletons in red, white, and green uniforms. Following them was a succession of floats, with entertainers between them walking on stilts, playing music, dancing many different forms, and other things. Every performer, down to the last, was dressed in costume of skeleton, demon, ghost, or any number of other things associated with the dead. The floats bore many different styles and designs, but as long as they something about them could be connected with death they were welcome in the parades.

Gathering and streaming into the streets, the people shouted and cheered as they progressed in the general directions of the cemeteries. Some of them were dressed up as well, though the children did it to get treats when the time of rising ended. Along the way the parades had visitors, tourists watching with amazement as they found themselves somehow swept along for the ride.

As they needed to ensure the people's safety, the meister and his weapon joined in making their slow march to the graves. An hour after the sun had set, they came upon the cemetery. Already some had arrived, gathered around their own dead, setting candles alight and laying out gifts upon the graves. As more people arrived and gave their tribute to the dead children, for tonight was for them, the visitors kept back, feeling a little awkward. They had came to see the raising of the dead, but now as some of them truly saw the meaning in all of this, it was only too easy to imagine that they were unintended interlopers. Soul and Crona, on the other hand, saw only what lay ahead of them – the job that was about to commence.

Standing near a small family of parents and two teens, both girls, they watched as they lit candles and placed some things on the grave. Above the inscription of the gravestone embedded in the earth was a picture of a little boy no older than maybe five. Scattered all over the grave were toys and pieces of candies, things that a child would enjoy.

As the parents knelt down to pray, the girls stood back in a somber manner, waiting for something to happen. A little curious about what going on, Crona tapped one of the girls on the shoulder and asked, "Excuse me if I'm interrupting, but what are you doing?"

She was about average size with short cut, black hair. Glancing behind her shoulder, the girl gave a soft, sad smile. "We are praying for our dead brother, helping him to find his way to us." Turning her head back around, she explained as she pointed to the stone, "Those are gifts for his arrival, which we hope he'll enjoy." Sniffing, she added, "He always liked playing with his trains. Hope he enjoys them."

"I'm sure he will," said Crona earnestly, trying to comfort her. He hadn't meant to upset her. Nodding her head in a way of thanks, she kept her eyes on the grave, waiting.

Several more minutes of this and, there came a sudden change in the air. Rather than the chill or ghostly moans that would precede a haunting, it felt as if there was more energy in the air than there had been a second prior. It started as a hum, as if a thousand small voices had struck the same tone at the same time. As the hum grew louder, it imbued all who could hear it with a calming sense of tranquility. It lasted for a good minute before stopping, which brought more than one awed person out of a hypnotic trance.

A silence fell upon the cemeteries as the first of the souls started to appear. Rising through earth and stone with minimal resistance, the souls came to hover, one by one, several feet off the ground. As one hovered in place a strange hue of blue would emanate around the soul and encase it in a large rectangular block. Like clay the box would start to mold itself, shimmering, shrinking, and become more humanlike as it did so.

From where Crona and his partner stood they watched as the box settled into the form of a small, featureless child. They gazed at it, unsure of what it would do next. The form twitched its body slightly, as if checking that it still knew how to move. After twitching several times, the features slowly emerged.

First to form into a true, unmistakably human feature were the eyes, hazel eyes that almost seemed to be glaring until the eyebrows that sprouted above them formed a calm gaze. Soon the remainder of the face was constructed, revealing a boy who was overjoyed and on the verge of tears. As hair and nails helped humanize him, a red shirt and blue shorts formed out of the skin, sheltering his body from the elements.

Where the block had moments ago stood now remained a young child, who was beaming as he looked at his parents. "Mommy, Daddy," he said as he launched himself at them. As joy overcame them they tried to wrap the boy in a hug only to pass right through him, colliding into each other. With a moment's confusion they got back up, but as they realized that he was only a ghost they composed themselves with sad smiles.

As similar, if not as disappointing, reunions among the dead and living unfolded, a scent of happiness blanketed the area warmly. Even though it was only a single night with their love ones, they could shed regrets they hadn't been able to while the loved one in question was alive. They could be together with them again, and talk for a while about how things had been. So tonight was one to celebrate the visiting relatives until they passed on again.

"Souls," said the figure in the red and green poncho, standing at the edge of the crowds. Its plans were to wait for the people to disperse so it could pick off the defenseless souls one by one. At least, they had been – but its craving was too great. "Souls," it said again, and the clunking of metal could be heard as he drew something, with trembling hand, from underneath the cloth of his poncho. Lifting its head up, it glared wildly into the cemetery and shouted, "I need souls!"

Everyone around him heard him, but as they turned to look –bang! –and a cloud of gunpowder obscured him from their vision. The gray smoke billowed out it to engulfed the people around him, forcing them to wheeze and hack as they covered their eyes. Out of the smoke he came, charging through the crowds for the closest soul. He smirked to himself as people screamed his name, "Hoja y la Pólvora!"

Nearing his first target, a long, thick arm coated in flesh and rusted metal stuck out of the poncho. In his hand was a bowie knife, ready to cut through the family to get what he wanted. If cutting them down meant more souls in the end, he really didn't care if the living got in his way. He was mere inches from his target – from the horror-stricken family petrified with fear but defiantly surrounding the child's soul – when it hit him.

A gray pole arced down and slammed into his face, smashing squarely against his nose. He was launched backwards, his sombrero flying off as he soared through the air. Stopped sharply by a gravestone in the shape of a cross, his body fell limp for a moment, back slouching against the stone. Jerking his gaze back to the family with a growl, his single eye blazed with fury as he scanned the area for what had hit him.

Scenting rather than seeing it, he rolled out of the way as a long, wickedly curved blade pierced the stone from the other side. As he rolled onto his feet, kneeling in a crouch, he faced his attacker. With ease the pink haired meister pulled the scythe from the stone, set his stance, and stared levelly back at the kishin known as Hoja y la Pólvora – Hoja for short.

As he got a good looked at the kishin's face, Crona was grateful that the rest of the fiend's body was covered up. Half of Hoja's face was a crusted mess of rusted metal, caked and decayed as if he'd stood out in the rain for far too long. One eye socket held a cold bronze eye, while the other was overlapped by a steel plate. His hair was a rusty red, and grisly metal studs stood out on both ears.

As people and ghosts fled the site, the kishin cracked its neck, examining Crona and the red-and-black zigzag patterned scythe. "Meister," he grumbled sorely, his mouth moving in jerky motion. "Ruining my dinner before it begins…" Extending another arm in front of him, his palm facing up with nothing in hand, he said, "Every year one of you comes, and every year one of you dies. Why can't you learn some manners and leave me to my meal in peace?"

With a grim-countenanced scowl, Crona held his weapon out and curtly took on a defensive stance, his feet spread for stability, the scythe's pole angled diagonally before his body, and his fingers curled about it in a firm grip. "Waiting for me to make the first move," chuckled the kishin as his hand somehow began to fill with black powder. "Polite, but unfortunately that will cost you a soul."

Blowing into his hand, he sent the powder scattering all over the place. In a fluid motion he plucked a match from within his poncho and lit it in a single, expert strike across the metal on his arm. With a grin he held his hand out, his eyes darting to the dried grass under them. "You know," he said as he watched the terror starting to grow in the meister's eyes, "the powder probably wasn't needed, but..." Dropping the match, he gathered more gunpowder in his hand and sprinted around Crona in a large circle.

Between watching the match and the kishin, Crona picked the match. Sure, it would easily light the grass on fire without the help of the powder and spread. Still, he should be able to out run the fire easily, and as long it was contained within the cemetery all it could really do was scorch some stone.

That was his line of thought – until the match made contact with the grass. With a bang the flames roared to vibrant life, borne upward on the fuel of the powder. At an alarming rate the fire sped toward him, forcing him to turn and run. He'd made only a few feet when he saw what Hoja was doing. Having completed an unbroken circle of powder, he stood smirking with another lit match and waved goodbye to the meister.

Releasing the match, he triggered the same result as the first, but now had sent a single, circular wall of fire closing on his prey. With only a matter of seconds to react, he scanned over the trap and made a diagonal dash to his right. As the heat bore down he jumped to get out alive, though not without scorching the soles of his boots.  
>Transitioning into a somersault but skidding off-balance, he rolled a good distance before crashing into a tree, his legs sticking in the air while his weight flattened sprawled arms across the ground. Shaking his head to rid it of the stunning effect, he managed to register Soul's yell through the ringing of his ears.<p>

"Incoming!"

The scythe was swung up just in time for a knife to bite into the pole with great force, causing Soul to grunt and Crona's slim arms to give in a little. "Like my special brand of powder?" asked the kishin with menace, sprinkling some of it onto the meister with his free hand. "It's a little something I cooked up one day, extremely volatile and highly flammable." Finished, he reached into his poncho and grabbed another match. As he lit it he asked, "Ready to die?"

Paying little attention to the kishin, he focused on the knife in front of him. Without thinking about it he quickly jerked the scythe down toward him. Catch off guard by the sharp action, Hoja fell forward, unbalanced, forced to relinquish his hold on the knife's hilt in order to catch himself. That was hard to do with only one arm, so as he landed he rolled to his right. As the kishin rolled one way Crona lunged to the other, far enough so he had time to get back on his feet.

Frustrated that he'd missed a golden opportunity, and that the match had burned his fingers, the kishin got back on his feet and reached for his knife...  
>To remember that it was out of reach. Scowling, he made a beeline for his weapon and was able to grab it.<p>

At the cost of his life. Having predicted the kishin's move, the meister had rushed to meet him and now swung the scythe in a wide arc, slicing cleanly through the middle of the torso. He heard Hoja give a grunt of pain before his body unraveled. Once the body disintegrated, all that remained of the kishin was an angry red soul hovering peacefully over the ground.

"Take the soul, but stay in weapon form," said the meister as he held the scythe in one hand so he could pick up the soul.

"Can do," said Soul as only part of his head, torso, and an arm emerged from the blade. Taking it from his meister's hand he swallowed the darkened soul in one bite. With a sigh of delight he slid back into the blade saying, "That was tasty."

"Glad to hear it," said the meister as he rushed out of the cemetery. "We're going to have our work cut out for us tonight."

"Before we leave," said the scythe, "we should tell someone about the fire – and speaking of, isn't the gunpowder still on you?" Stopping in his tracks with a grimace, Crona gently sat the scythe down before using his hands to dust himself off. This done, he grabbed his weapon and proceeded to locate the nearest fire station.

* * *

><p>On the other side of town, seated atop a wall that surrounded the cemetery, Maka watched a now familiar scene unfold. Her eyes gazed distantly upon a reunion, her face somber as the dead and living met. In her hand Ragnarok, in broadsword form, waited for the madness within her to take hold. At the moment, however, killing people and eating souls were far from her thoughts.<p>

Sleazy criminals, and almost any adult at that, she could slay without hesitation.

But right now, watching relatives come together and set a hundred happy scenes to bloom had hit hard at the core of her love-starved heart. "Not tonight, Ragnarok," she said, her voice dulled to any of his excitement. "You know I rarely attack children when given a choice." Kicking her legs at the air, she fell silent and waited for the demon's response. She knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant one.

"What?" exclaimed the demon as he zoomed to merge right back into her body and reappear on her back. "You've got to be kidding me. They're not even alive!" Sandwiching her head between his hands, he forced her to examine the graveyards. "There are hundreds of souls ripe for the taking! You're not telling me you're about to pass up on this opportunity."

Nodding, she said flatly, "Yes, I am. One night won't kill us, and Medusa will never know. Besides, there's going to be as many souls tomorrow when the adults arrive. I'll just collect a lot of their souls, if that makes you happy."

Letting go of her head, the demon grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked. "Listen, you little dimwit," he shouted as he pulled this way and that. "Stop being you and let one the other ones out! I want those souls right NOW!"

Gritting her teeth so she didn't scream in pain, she said as tears tried to form, "No, I won't. I'm the meister and you're the weapon, remember? You're supposed to be under my command. Not the other way around." She started to throw her fists into the air, but it was kind of hard to hit the demon when he got her by the hair. "Let go of me!" she shouted as a single tear slid down her cheek.

"No," he shouted back, his childishness starting to get on her nerves. He pulled back, causing her to arch her back. "Not until you agree to get me those souls!"

"Never," she said, which only caused the demon to pull harder. Neither paying attention to the fact that he was pulling her off balance. So it surprised them both when they fell from the wall, crashing into hard cement on the other side. "Damn it, Ragnarok!" she yelled, winded and a little stunned as pain rolled up her back. "Look at what you did!"

"What I did?" he countered, "All you have to do is go crazy, but no. You have to screw things up as always."

Growling, she said lowly, "I'm going to kill you." Reaching up, she grabbed the demon by the waist and pulled him down so her fist could make contact with his chin. His head recoiled back, but with a firm grip on him she proceeded to beat the demon. "Take that, you ugly piece of shit!"

"Oh yeah?" fumed the demon, who was too angry to think straight. Punching downward with his free hand, he smashed his fist right into her stomach, which only increased her blind fury toward him. Soon enough the two were in a full-out brawl, rolling down the streets and caring little if anyone saw them.

Standing off in the distance, a large man in a black, hooded robe was placing a hand over his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. "Do those two ever stop fighting?" he muttered to himself in exasperation. He looked back up to watch as they went at it. His face was covered by a skull mask, and his hood was up, so it was impossible to make out any features of the man, but through one of the eyeholes in his mask it could be seen that there was no pupil.

"Well, as long they don't draw the meisters' attention, they should be fine." Seeing that the quarrel was lasting longer than necessary, he thought, _Why was I sent here again?_

* * *

><p>As the night went on the activities went on without a hitch. Of course there were kishin, but the meisters were diligently at work dealing with them. So the celebration carried on throughout the night, nonstop, until the rays of first dawn arrived. Signaling the end of the first day, and the time at which the deceased children must take their leave. Saying their goodbyes, they made their way back to their graves, not to be seen again until next year came around.<p>

* * *

><p>Daisy: *Clapping hands* Bravo! Great performance guys!<p>

Maka: Thanks, but it wasn't that great.

Daisy: Yes it was and... Oh, I forget! Would you like to meet my friend.

Maka: I guess, but beside Crona we're the only people...*Daisy wave her hand at the morning glory which it roots came out of the vase and walked over to the girl. Picking it up she presented it to Maka* here.

Daisy: Would you like to smell him. He smell very good.

Chrona: Daisy... what exactly are you?

Daisy: *Smiling* I'm Daisy, the Angel of Plants.

Maka: In other words you got the power to control plant growth.

Daisy: *Shrugging* I guess. All I know that plants are my friend. If you like them you can came over to my house sometime. I got entire garden for all my friends.

Crona: That would be nice, but shouldn't you finish this first.

Daisy: Oh, yeah. As Mulleb or anyone else would say. Please review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

Black*Star: Finally, I get to show what a big star I am!

Tsubaki: But you're not even in this chapter and didn't Mulleb told you unless he asked for you to stay away.

Black*Star: Yes, but only when he's around. He never said anything about one of his OC.

Tsubaki: Still, I'm not sure if we should bother her. She doesn't seem like the type who can handle your...

Black*Star: Greatness. I had that affect on people. Beside, I'm sure we can... *Enter room to found Daisy busy at putting flowers into Medusa's hair which was already full of black and yellow flowers. Tsubaki stared as Black*Star burst into laughter*

Medusa: *Glaring* What so funny?

Daisy: Hold still, please. I'm almost done.

Black*Star: *Wheezing* How in the world did she convince you to do this?

Medusa: Seeing that I want this story to begin... Enjoy this story or else. *Go back to glaring at the boy hoping it would kill him.*

* * *

><p>Chapter Four<p>

"Oooohhhh…" moaned the demon swordswoman as she stumbled through the crowded streets. The sun had just risen, showering its warmth onto the somewhat sick girl and the many people already out and about. Some of them were heading for home to sleep off last night, while others... were waking up from stuffing their mouths and drinking a little too much, bringing hangovers and upset stomachs abounds.

One of them was Maka, who hadn't even meant to do it. She blamed her resident demon for her current condition, seeing as she had only managed to dissuade him from hunting the children's souls by treating him. With the money in hand, they had found a bar that was willing to take her cash and indulged in a couple of bottles of the famous local tequila. Ever since the day he'd gotten his bloody hands on some beer, the best – or if not, quickest – way for Maka to calm Ragnarok down was to get him a drink. Usually she would simply order something to please him and get herself a soda or water. She had seen the toxic effects displayed in alcoholics, and even though she could find them highly amusing, the addictions they suffered had put off any interest in trying it herself.

However, like any teen, even a very frivolous one, she was curious about the adult luxuries and let her curiosity get the best of her. Consequently, the last thing she remembered was downing her third drink as the effects of the depressant altered her mind. The next thing she knew she found herself awakening in a dumpster, covered in garbage. In one stiff hand she clutched a green bottle, and in the other held her hat in a death grip.

Fearing the worst, she removed herself from her repulsive sleeping area and as soon as possible checked her body to see if anything had happened. Thankfully she had kept her innocence, but the alcohol had taken its toll. Her head was throbbing, feeling as if a hammer kept beating away within her skull. Her mouth had lost all it moisture; she badly wanted to puke. In short she felt like hell, and all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and go back to sleep.

Sadly, she could not quite do that, for her basket was missing! It held within it all their food and money, and she really did not want to waste it. So, as she dragged herself through town, a fumbling mind tried its honest best to call to memory the location of the thing.

As she went by people stared after her, for she truly looked like hell. The hat helped contain some of her wild hair, but it was sticking up all over the place. Her clothing was stained with trash, which added its potent odor to the alcohol's repugnant stench. Red clashed in green eyes that were startlingly bloodshot. This along with the irritated attitude that radiated from her told passerby that so much as talking to her might cause that bottle in her hand to strike something.

She ignored the stares, more worried about getting back what was hers. Sure, she didn't want anyone taking note of her, but that was because she was crabby rather than due to her looks. Unlike the majority of girls her age, what her body looked like to others never much occurred to her. It didn't matter when you had a literal witch of a mother giving you better things to be concerned over. So she marched through the streets, hoping that by the time she reached the bar her mood would improve.

It didn't. When she found the outdoor bar, she couldn't find her basket anywhere among the half dozen tables comprising it; indeed, all she could find were a few drunks out cold and drooling on the tables. It seemed someone had stolen it. With a throaty growl she randomly hurled the bottle in her hand, earning a cry of pain from someone across the bar.

Taking a seat at a table, she crossed her arms on it and tucked her face behind them. Today was just going to be one of those days she would sit out on. By evening, she would hopefully be able to get some soul hunting done. As much she hated it, she also was obliged to do so. Mother was one of those factors that could encourage her and the demon to do so.

Yet for some reason unknown to her she felt as if she needed to do it, which frustrated her immensely because that meant she was doing what her mother wanted her to do. In her current condition, her mood continued growing darker and darker as the thought played through her head. "Stupid witch," she muttered, hardly for the first time feeling powerless to change her fate.

Feeling something knocking on her head, she growled out, "What is it, Ragnarok? Shouldn't you be hiding right now?"  
>"Don't need to," said the demon. "No one around except some passed-out drunks." Leaning forward to look into her eyes, he said, "So how does the princess feel after her first try at binge drinking?"<p>

Without fully lifting her head from her arms, she tilted it up until she could glare at the demon. "Like shit. Making things worse, we lost our food and probably spent everything on the drinks." Burying her face in the self-made darkness once more, she added, "Remind me to never drink again. All it does is cause trouble."  
>Shrugging, the demon said, "Well, you can't sit here all day. Best way to get rid of a hangover is to work." Grabbing her by the shoulders, he forced her up, causing her to moan in protest. "A little food in your stomach should help, too."<p>

"But I don't want to move," she whined. Sighing, the demon shook her, which did little to soothe her headache. "Alright! Alright!" she exclaimed. "I'll get us some food, just stop shaking me." Satisfied, the demon let go of his host, who fell over and face-planted into the table. "Give me a moment," she said, her voice muffled by the wood.  
>Putting her arms on the table, she pushed up, using the momentum to get out of her seat. As she steadied herself on her feet she kept one arm on the table, while the other went to her head. "My head hurts," she said as she gained her balance. "Is there any chance we went by a pharmacy last night? I need to get some aspirin." Slowly, placing each step as if relearning how to walk, she marveled that she was still able to move.<p>

"I think there was one down the block," said the demon as he sank back into her back. "Though, you'll probably want to get a drink to rehydrate. I feel dry, but sticky. It's a weird feeling I like to get rid of."

"Yeah, yeah," she said as she stepped over a man sleeping on the sidewalk. "There'll probably be something at the pharmacy." After traipsing a block, she found the place she wanted. A small, square building about three stories tall was painted white with a sign in Spanish, which she hope read 'pharmacy,' hanging over a door. Standing in front of the wooden door, she jiggled the knob only to find it securely locked. "Holidays," she said to herself, a little peeved.

If she'd felt like being an idiot, she would have used Ragnarok to slice and dice the obstacle until it lay in several tiny pieces. Having more of a brain on her shoulders than that – with or without a hangover – she traced the perimeter of the building in search of another way in. In the alley on its right, a metal staircase was attached to the wall. The sliding ladder, intended as a fire escape, was currently out of reach, but that fact didn't deter her.

Scanning the area, she tossed up a plan and put it in action. Grabbing a trash can with a flat lid, she plunked it down under the ladder. Then she stepped onto the lid and reached for the ladder. It was just out of her reach; teeth gritted stubbornly, she rose to the tips of her toes, causing the trash can to wobble. Feeling the can prepared to tip from under her feet, she jumped, shoving off so her hands could latch onto the bottom rung.

As her weight fell upon the ladder it slid down halfway before catching due to rust. She grumbled unhappily, as jerking to a halt had caused her head to whir. _This had better be the place_, she thought in the back of her mind. Pulling herself up, she wriggled onto the platform and clambered to a window near the roof.

Peering inside showed her that the room was empty, a layer of dust on the floor indicating that it been a while since this room had been used. "Ragnarok," she said as she tried to force the window open, "take your weapon form." The demon did so, and she looked the blade over before jabbing him under the window. A moment of pushing down with all her might, using the sword as a lever, and the wood the window was anchored to gave way with a loud crack.

"Hope nobody heard that," she remarked as the demon went back into her body.

"So what if somebody heard us?" said Ragnarok as she pried the window open. "Not like they can cause us much trouble."

Stepping into the room, she shut the window behind her before proceeding. She'd been right about the dust; as she crept to a door, impressions of her passage were left in the dust. If anyone bothered to investigate this could prove a minor problem, but as she entered into a hallway she found the lights all off, and she couldn't hear anyone else.

Moving as quietly as possible, she snuck down the hall toward a stairway leading down. Upon reaching the bottom of the steps she silently congratulated herself. The store was definitely a pharmacy, for when she stepped over the small chain meant to block the stairs she found a counter right next to her, and there was plenty of medicine stored behind it. There were also other things stocked up on shelves throughout the store.

She swung over the counter and spent a few minutes looking through the medicine. She got what she'd come for and decided to see if she couldn't bring anything else with her. Stowing the bottle of aspirin in her pocket, she poked through the other shelves grabbing anything she could carry. Once done, she was left carrying a paper bag full of items as she headed back toward the stairs.

"Cereal, some granola bars, water, bananas, and cookies," she listed off, a triumphant grin plastered on her face. "As soon we get somewhere more private, we can eat." Staring down into the bag, she was surprised when she ran into something at the top step. Startled, she tried to take a step backward, but was unable to catch anything under her feet. Teetering on one foot, she waved her arms about for several seconds before regaining balance.

The person she ran into, a boy, was as surprised as she was. Sitting on his butt, he shook his head with his eyes closed, trying to clear the confusion. When he opened them he found a thief trying to steal what belonged to his parents' shop. "¡Ladrona!" he screamed, alerting everyone in the house.

Silencing him with a sharp punch in the kisser, the girl twitched an eyebrow in annoyance as she glared at the now unconscious boy. "Did you have to yell?" she groaned, as her headache had been inching toward something halfway tolerable until he'd shouted.

"You know," said the demon, "you should have checked the place out before breaking in."

"Try thinking ahead when your head is throbbing," she shot back as she quickly made for the dusty room. Closing the door just in time, she heard the running of feet and shouts of Spanish. Not keen on giving them the chance to find her, she quickly went through the window and jumped from the second platform. But for a jolting pain when she landed, she sustained no injury as she fled. After several blocks, when she was sure no one was chasing her, she took a seat on the ground. Taking her spoils from the bag, she sighed and proceeded to stuff herself, taking a couple of pills to rid herself of the headache.

* * *

><p>At the hotel, the team of meisters and weapons had gathered in Sid's and Nygus's room. It was a standard room, but quite nice with it dual beds, a small bathroom, a dresser, a table with two chairs, and a T.V. None of them could have cared less at the moment. All they wanted to do after treating their wounds was to sleep.<p>

Sid wasn't kidding when he'd said this wasn't going to be a vacation. After taking care of Hoja, the scythe meister had found himself sprinting around the city in a wild attempt to keep up with all the screams. The place was crawling with kishin who seemed to have agreed as one to strike out in so many different places that it was almost impossible not to run into one. He could have sworn that with every block ran into two kishin on average.

And that being when they weren't working as a group. More than once he wound up in a sticky situation when three or more kishin attacked him at once. Most of them seemed to have an awkward time working as a team, though, which he could play to his advantage. On the other hand, a few of them were able to pull off creative and very effective maneuvers that forced him to retreat.

All night this went on, and as it grew old his muscles started to give in to fatigue. Near the end, when the moon was about ready to set, his body told him firmly, after taking out one more of the demons, that it refused to continue. Collapsing onto his rear, he sat and spent a good minute trying to override its protest and keep moving.  
>The body won the battle; he had used Soul for support and managed to limp back to base. Needless to say, he felt like he was giving up, but when he learned that the other young meister had been carted in on his partner's back, he didn't felt so guilty.<p>

For the time being he was camped on one of the two beds, using his arms to prop himself up. His coat, vest, and shirt were currently in the zombie's and his partner's hands as they sewed up the multiple cuts in them. Soul was standing to the side, observing the many scrapes his meister had collected to see if any were going to cause a problem. There was little blood when they took off his clothing, but it never hurt to check.

As the albino was learning, all the cuts to his meister's torso were shallow though many. Scabs had already formed into thin lines, few if any of which would result in scarring. There was also one narrow, scabbed laceration going down his right cheek. Other than being exhausted he was, overall, in perfect health.

Treou on the other hand had taken heavier damage. Even though there weren't nearly as many wounds on his person, there were two critical ones that stood out. One was a diagonal slice across his sternum that was small but deep. This wound he received early on yesterday, but he'd refused to leave the field and so had it dressed the best he and his partner could before continuing on. Obviously whatever pierced him had missed any vital organs; however, the larger wound on his leg was probably the worse of the two.

At the end of the night, when it was all but time to quit, he ran into one last kishin that was hidden in the sewers. He had been near a drainage ditch when it reached out with it dagger-like fingers and seized hold of his upper leg. Fortunately, it didn't get a firm enough grip as to prevent the meister from pulling away. Less fortunately, it dragged its fingers' clawed points down the length of his leg, opening up four long, fairly deep wounds.

Limping away from his attacker, he made it a short way before the loss of blood forced him to stop. After his partner dressed the wound, she carried him on her back to their current location. Right now she was peeling off the bloodied bandages in order to place a fresh dressing over the wound.

Of them all, the older meister alone seemed to have suffered not a scratch, or even been wearied by the night's work. Sid may not have been winded, but he did seem amused as he watched his younger counterparts. "So I'll take it that tonight has been a bit challenging?" he asked good-naturedly. There was the nodding of heads.

"Well, we did warn you."

"We know– ah," said Treou as he winced slightly. "Be careful with my leg, Clair. It hurts like hell." His partner momentarily stopped wrapping the bandage around his leg so she could make some signs with her hand. "I am holding still," the meister replied. "Not my fault that your hand won't stop trembling." Giving a shrug, she went back to her work without heeding the stares she was getting from the scythe meister and his weapon.

"Does she ever talk?" asked the scythe.

"Nope," replied Treou. "She's been mute since the day she was born; at least that's what she told me. When I first met her it took a while for us to get past the communication barrier. For a girl who doesn't talk she has a lot to say." Finished with the dressing, she sat by her partner and made more signs with her hands and body movement. Crona recognized it as American Sign Language, which he had seen before but never taken the time to learn.

Translating, the blond said, "'Please don't indulge yourself talking about me while I'm around. I'm mute, not deaf.'" Arching an eyebrow, he watched as she made a few more signs before giggling. "Not sure if I want to speak that out loud," he said as she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Catch," said Sid, throwing Crona's shirt his way. Catching it, he slipped it on as Sid said, "I'll finish the vest sometime tomorrow. Your coat should be done by tonight, but till then go get some rest. It should be a bit easier than the night before, but knowing how yesterday was..."

Nodding, Crona stood up and said, "Yes, sir. I'll go right this instant." Turning to Soul, he added, "Need to do anything before we sleep?" In response the weapon gave a shrug, which he took as a no. Without another word he left the room, his partner following behind him.

Watching them go, the blond said, "Those two make a strange pair. Wonder what their story is." Receiving a light knock on the head, he turned around to find his partner telling him something. "We're not strange," he said, sounding offended.

As the older meister and weapon watched the exchange they couldn't help but laugh to themselves. They're talking about strange teams, Sid thought, yet they seem to have forgotten about the zombie and mummy pair right in front of them. "Ever feel like the world never knew you were even there?" whispered Sid.

Shrugging, the mummy replied without stopping what she was doing. "Can't remember a time that it's happened, but I can see why it could be amusing." Pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts she asked, "Based on how the four have acted so far, I'll say they've done decently."

Nodding in agreement, he said, "They're not dead, so that's a start."

"You do know we can hear you," Treou pointed out, he and his partner glaring at them.

The mummy shrugged it off; the zombie said, as he rubbed the back of his head, "Sorry, we thought you weren't paying attention to us."

Rolling his eyes as he carefully got to his feet, the blond said, "We'll be heading to our room now. See you guys tonight." With that said, with the help of Clair, he hobbled out of the room and left the two alone. Having nothing better to do, they finished up the sewing, and with extra time to spare Sid watched T.V while Nygus fished out a book to read.

* * *

><p>"What are you…?" asked Maka idly as she gazed at the world of souls. Sometime during the day she had gotten bored and begun trying to figure who the witch's soul belonged to. Having cleaned herself up in a restroom by using wet paper towels to wipe herself off, she presently stood about a hundred feet from a hotel, chewing on a cookie as she watched the place intently. Why it had been bugging her, she had not a clue. So what if there was some idiotic witch in there running the risk of getting her soul reaped? It was none of her concern.<p>

The night before, she had spotted one of the meisters – some boy wielding a whip – taking out one of the kishin. Truth be told, she didn't know for sure whether he was a meister or one of those people who hunted them for a living. She had seen them once or twice out hunting, most of them possessing very powerful souls.

The only reason she'd decided to check the witch out was because she wanted to find the whip boy again. It had to be fun to lash that whip around, producing loud cracking noises as his weapon moved about like water. While he was busy taking care of his target, she helped herself to a look at his soul wavelength so she could track him down later. Now that she had come to see if she could "borrow" the whip, her discovery of the witch so near the guy had gotten her thinking.

"How long are we going to stand here?" whispered the demon. Lacking the ability to see what she could naturally meant he found the times she did this quite boring. It didn't help to be out in plain sight where anyone could spot them – so right now he was hiding in her back, mentally grumbling over how annoying his meister could be.  
>"Not much longer," she said, blinking so that her normal sight returned, the ethereal filter removed. "The one I'm watching is asleep, along with the other one. Short of storming right in, I won't be able to find out who it is." Grabbing her chin, she stared at the hotel thinking deeply about something. "…Can we barge right in?" she asked as she looked over her shoulder.<p>

"Sure we can," said Ragnarok, his voice full of sarcasm, "It might help if I turn into my weapon form so we can at least grab some souls while we're at it."

"Geez," she said as she turned around to walk away, "you know, you don't have to be so sarcastic about it." Putting her hands on the back of her head, she said as she stared up to the sky, "So, what should we do?"

"Oh, I don't know... go collect a few souls."

"Alright, we'll..." Stopping in place, she heard a sound all too often associated with Mexico. A smile spread across her face as in a flash a sombrero replaced the fedora hat and maracas inexplicably appeared in her hands. "Mariachi band!" she shouted with a shake of the maracas.

Heading toward the music, she ignored the demon as he exclaimed, "Maka, it's soul eating time! Not 'Let's be immature' time!" As she made her way to the band that was standing in the middle of a square, she swayed her hips to the rhythm. Since the sight was somewhat common locally, the band gathered a crowd made mostly of tourists, with a few natives here and there.

Pushing her way through the crowd, she came up to the band. "¿Se importan si acompaño?" she asked. 'Mind if I join you?'

Pausing for a moment, one of them with a trumpet looked her over and asked, "¿Puedes tú mantenerse con el tiempo?" – 'Can you keep up with the timing?'

"¡Sí!" she exclaimed, giving a shake of her instruments for emphasis.

"Pues nos acompañas, chica," – 'Then join us, girl,'he shouted simply, throwing his arms out in welcome before tooting his horn again. In turn the others followed suit as the girl jumped in with them, shaking the maracas to her heart's content. The crowd cheered her on, encouraging her to play along as the demon's voice was drowned out beneath all the festivity and noise.

_I lost her,_ thought Ragnarok with a sigh. _At least I can listen to some music for the next who knows how many hours..._ Unfortunately for him, his meister was ready to get her groove on, playing with the band until the night had set.

* * *

><p>Pulling on his coat, Crona looked over a line of newly sewn in stitches. From a distance they weren't that noticeable, but up close one could see how many times he had needed it patched up again. "Thanks," he said to the zombie who was sitting across from them. After a full afternoon of sleep he and his comrades were freshened up, ready as ever for tonight's hunt.<p>

They were gathered around the same table that had served them as a rendezvous point the past few days. Nygus was standing by Sid, while Treou and his weapon sat across from them. Standing beside the mute weapon, Soul and Crona were waiting for the zombie to give the briefing. "Glad that I'm still able to mend clothes," remarked the zombie. "You've had that thing for three years, and it's seen more abuse than its wearer has." The pink-haired boy shrugged and said nothing, for it was true.  
>"That aside, I want to be sure the four of you are still in shape." His eyes happened upon the blond; the dressing was not in view under his clothing, but Sid was still concerned.<p>

"I'll be fine," said Treou with a wave of his hand. "If need be, Clair here can and will drag my butt back down here if I don't see reason." His weapon gave a nod to that.

"Still, tonight I want us to rendezvous in a specific place so that I can check your status." Looking at a watch on his wrist, he continued, "Right now it's about four forty-five. Within ten minutes before or after eleven, I want you to report to the flag at the Zócalo. If you don't have a watch, ask someone the time. Is that clear?" There was a collective nod of assent. "Good; now go out and get some food in you. In an hour or so, we're going to have one more rough night to deal with." Agreeing with this, the teens dispersed, heading toward a restaurant they looked forward to trying out.

Leaning back in his chair, the zombie said, "Every year I do this, it doesn't get any easier."

Shrugging, the mummy said, "At least they are all still alive."

"True," he muttered as he scanned the room. "I just hope they stay that way."

* * *

><p>The second day of the holidays was much like the first, though unlike yesterday where the saints were given some time of thought and regard, today was reserved only for the dead. So, with the second and final day of the holiday commencing, the celebrations were raring into full swing. Tonight was the time for the spirits of adults to visit.<p>

As on the night before, the spirits were given gifts – though instead of toys and candy, a generous supply of alcohol and plenty of tasty food had been prepared. The night was going to get wild. Everywhere there were parties, some out of control and others kept more formal depending on the people, as the living and dead toasted for the night's joy.

There was one person, however, whose craving just then could quite seriously impel her to kill for a soul. Standing atop a building, staring down at a group of dead and living hanging around on a large patio, Maka was wrenched by a strong yearning to go crashing into the place and slaughter as many of them as possible. The reason lay probably as much in a lust for adrenaline as it did in the harvesting of scrumptious souls. She was both compelled and repulsed by her own eager and irrepressible imaginings of spraying of blood, of the screams of the dying – and as the soon, so soon-to-be frenzied bodes fled coming destruction it would only enliven her drive to see them to it.

"Looked at all those people," enticed the demon. "Not a care in the world, and not a clue of what's about to happen." He was nowhere in sight, but his voice rang all too clear in her head. "Come on, Maka. You may hold yourself back when it comes to children, but do you have the same restraint with adults? I don't think you do." With a will all their own, her fingers twitched, curled around an imaginary hilt. "It's been nearly a week now since we enjoyed our last meal," he said, of his appetite for souls. Slowly sliding into form her hands, encased in a foully dark glow, the onyx blade began to solidify as he continued. "Would it hurt to take just one of them?"

Her body shook as she tried to resist the madness, but there was nothing she could do to keep it from invading her mind. She couldn't take it – not another second. As abruptly she'd begun quivering, she stopped – paused – hung motionless. When a giggle broke from the mouth whose corners ticked sharply up into a small grin, the demon knew he had her. As she hunched over, her grip tightened savagely on the hilt, he exclaimed, "Ready, set, go!"

Jumping from the roof, she nosedived earthward – the two massive black wings bursting forth just in time to catch her as she plunged into the crowd. Those who'd seen her jump off the building had momentarily thought her suicidal, but were thrown off guard when the draconic wings appeared. The living gawked in consummate terror as she pulled up and presented the sharp end of the blade, rearing back with a mad glint in her eye.

Mowing through everything that breathed as she launched herself forward and glided at high speed, she clipped cleanly through body after body, severing most of them in two just below the shoulders. Those who were merely spirits vanished, violently dispelled forms leaving only their souls behind. Those who comprised the living… well, it was certainly becoming a bloody mess. For a moment or two the survivors watched as she sprang back into the night sky. Her lithe silhouette shone with the city's lights, poised before the backdrop of a hysterical moon, but they didn't need to see her to know what was coming now. Ducking for cover or just trying to flee the area, the partygoers scattered like ants.

Looking on them from above, the girl contemplated whether she ought bother to chase them or not. "First the souls!" urged the blade. Glaring at him for a moment, she considered tossing him aside just to watch him fall. Deciding against it, she smoothly descended to the ground, her feet meeting the bricks gently.

After the voracious demon gobbled up the souls, Maka activated her soul perception. "Now, where did those toys scurry off to? I wasn't done playing…" She twisted around three hundred and sixty degrees on the ball of her foot, large eyes casting about for anyone she could amuse herself with. Doing this several times for the fun of it, it was the fourth spin that something dawned on her preoccupied mind. Coming to a stop facing the east, her finger snapping in the direction, she chirped, "Found the witch."

A little confused, the demon asked, "Witch?" Without saying a word the girl pumped the wings to send herself flying back onto the roof. Without much thought she dashed forward, and when she saw the space between buildings she didn't slow down. Like a gazelle she easily cleared the gap and continued running once she landed. "Maka," exclaimed the demon, "you're passing all the people! What is it that's gotten your attention?"

Coming to a stop near a ledge, she squatted as she peered down at the nearly deserted street. Switching off her soul perception, she stared down and was more than a little baffled at what she saw. "Hey, isn't that the boy you ran into yesterday?" asked the demon. "At least I think it's a he; either an effeminate boy or a girl with an even flatter chest than yours."

"Yes, but that can't be…" –realizing belatedly that she been insulted, she shouted– "My chest isn't that flat!"

"They're not that big to begin with. Now please tell me – what's so interesting about the boy?"

"If I'm seeing things right, that boy has the soul of a witch."

There was a period of silence during which the two unwitting boys talking down below were the only source of sound. Certainly it was the same boy who had asked her to use wisely the cash she'd wasted. She didn't know who the snow-haired boy was, but he seemed to know… She never had gotten the name of the pink-haired boy. "Cotton candy head," she said, christening the boy with a clap of delight.

"Doubt that's his name," said the demon, "but you're sure he's a witch? All the witches I've seen have been chicks. Unless it is a she, after all…?"

"Maybe when witches have boys, they get rid of them," she said, something envious in her voice.

"If so, he probably doesn't have a clue what he is. More importantly, are we going to sit here all day or are we going to eat their souls?"

"Nope," she replied, getting to her feet, "we're going to talk to him." Making her way down the building by finding some stairs on its wall, she added pointedly, "So, if you would be so nice as to get rid of the wings..."

"Wait a just a second," he said, instead using the wings to block her view. "Unless you're going down there to rip 'em up and eat their souls..."

"But Ragnarok," she whined, drawing out the name as she tried to push the wings out of her face. "Aren't you even slightly curious about him?"

"Why should I be?"

"Typical," she said, pouting. "Look, I won't gather anymore of your tasty treats for you unless you let me see him. What harm can it do?"

Grumbling, for he knew she would carry out the threat, he said, "Be quick about it." The wings dissolved from sight, allowing her to continue on.

* * *

><p>Down in the street, a little lost, the meister and weapon kept to the middle of the road. There was no sign of life in this part of the city. "I think we lost it," said Soul with his hands in his jacket pocket. He was referring to the wounded kishin they had been tracking – the key word being 'had.'<br>Peering up at the drooling moon that sat high in the sky, he asked, "What time is it?"

Right beside his weapon, Crona scanned the area for any sudden movement. "Don't know. I left my watch back home." Sighing, he chose to allow the fact that their prey had slipped away from their grasp to justify the next proposed course of action. Sticking his hand into his coat pocket, he pulled out a folded map and started to open it. "Let's head for the square. Based on where the moon is in the sky, it's almost time, and we're going to need a little bit to find our way there."

Once the map was unfolded, he held it up for he and his partner to look at. "I think we're somewhere here," said Soul as pointed at the map.

"Are you sure? Because then we should be somewhere near the middle of town, and I think we're near the edge. I think our current location's somewhere around here," he said, one of his partner's hands taking hold of the map as Crona pointed. "Or we might both be completely clueless on the matter," he added, his free hand scratching the back of his head.

As the two debated, they didn't notice that a new set of feet was heading right for them. They were surprise when a hand gripped the top of the map and yanked it down, causing it to wrinkle. "Hello, cotton candy head!" exclaimed the girl, sending the two jumping a good foot back, startled by her sudden appearance. Giggling gleefully as a hand went to her mouth to stifle it, she inquired, "Did I scare you?"

"No," said Soul as his blood pressure normalized, "you just gave us a heart attack."

"Little old me scared you," she said, glowing with mirth as she giggled some more. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to see Cotton Candy over there," she said, gesturing to Crona with her elbow.

"You're the girl from yesterday," said the meister, letting himself fall back into a relaxed stance. Putting the map away, he brought to mind yesterday's meeting.

"Yap," she replied, taking a generous step toward him, "thanks you for what you did, by the way." Leaning in close to his face, she stared at him, examining him intently. Frowning, she asked, "Are you a boy?" Arching his eyebrow in annoyance, he gave a nod. Snapping backward, she threw her arms up into the air and exuberantly declared, "It's a boy!"

Sweatdropping, the boys watched her as she leaped and proclaimed this several times, almost as if she were speaking to another, telling the invisible party she'd been right. "Are you… okay?" Soul asked uncertainly once she stopped shouting.

Turning to face him, she quirked her lips up in a wicked smile. "Of course I am. Do I look sick to you?" She turned her body so she was now facing Soul, and leaned forward without making contact. The scythe was forced to lean back at an awkward angle, trying to ignore the fact she was seriously intruding on his personal bubble. She knew it, too, and was enjoying the uncomfortable look on his face. "Well, do I?"

"You're a bit thin," he said, not sure what else to say.

Shooting back upright, straight as a pole, she said, "I do need to eat more." Poking her stomach, she seemed to be lost in thought until she abruptly blurted out, "I've got black blood!" This announcement baffled them, and she started to spin around as she sung out, "Black blood, black blood, truly the best! Black blood, black blood, wins at every test! Black blood, black blood, so much better than the rest!"

As she hollered the same phrases over and over, Soul leaned over and whispered into Crona's ear. "I think this girl has completely lost it." Nodding, Crona walked forward, for the girl was spinning and prancing drunkenly away from them. "Dude!" cautioned the weapon, grabbing his meister by the shoulders. He glanced over his shoulders, his eyes demanding an answer and not receiving one. "We've got somewhere to be and don't need to get involved with her."

With a small, benevolent smile he said, "I'm sure Sid wouldn't mind if we escorted her to a mental hospital. Look at her," he said, pointing to the still singing and twirling girl. "We can't just leave her like this." His partner glanced at the girl before sighing and letting go. Mouthing the word thanks, Crona walked up to the girl. Reaching out to take her by the arm, he said, "That's a nice song. Why don't you tell us how you came up with it as we go for a walk?" His voice was gentle as if he spoke to a child, but firm enough to say she was going. Odd… that red – now that he noticed it, was that blood he saw on her clothes?

Still singing, she didn't seem to notice him until his hand made contact with her arm. The touch was in no way hostile or aggressive, but by the girl's reaction alone it would have seemed he was trying to assault her. The loosely melodious tone was replaced by a shriek as she jerked back from the touch of his fingers. Pivoting on her heel, she spun around so that a hastily bunched fist slammed into jaw.

As she shrunk away Crona stumbled back, stunned at the sheer disproportionate force that was carried in her bony hand's punch. Only the back of her hand had connected, clipped him, really, but it felt as if he'd been struck by a steel fist. Before he could fall onto his behind his partner moved up behind him, catching him. Arms sprawled across Soul's arms, he opening and shut his mouth, working the mandible to check for any breakage. As for Soul, he shouted, "What the heck was that for?"  
>The girl wasn't responding because she was hugging herself, her entire body shaking. "No, no, no, no, no," she repeated, her eyes shut tight as long hair was whisked about freely.<p>

"No what?" Soul barked. "What right do you have to–?"

"Calm down, Soul," said Crona, shifting to stand again on his own strength. Turning his to face his partner, he smiled to show that no real harm was done. Looking to the girl, he said, "My fault anyways." Careful not to startle her, he took one step at a time toward the girl, keeping his arms to his sides. "I'm sorry. If you don't want to be touched, you won't be touched. But please, come with us. We want to help you."

Several inches away from her, he listened as she cried out, "Go away! I'm not curious anymore..." –and, quieter, "and you shouldn't waste your time on me. I'm not worth it."

Before he could say anything, her entire posture changed – the air around her transformed. Body snapping stiff as a board, her arms uncoiled themselves, her hands balling into fists. She was still quivering, and with one look through her eyes Crona could tell it was partly due to fear. However, a mixture of hated and defiance was battling that fear, causing him to question more than her sanity.

"I knew it," she breathed out. "So who did you send?"

* * *

><p><em>Stop messing around and take his soul<em>, urged the voice she could pick out among thousands. The first thought to fly to the girl's mind was shock as to how the hell she was able communicate with her.

"I knew it," she breathed out. "So who did you send?" Ignoring the looks she was getting from the two boys, she scanned the area, trying to dig her furious eyes into every dark corner. She knew somewhere that it was futile – whoever it was wouldn't be in her line of sight – but that didn't matter to her at the moment. "Once," she said out loud, "just once I'd like it if you could just leave me alone!"

_But dear_, said Medusa, disguising her typical monotone with a motherly tone, _What would have happened last night, if I'd left you passed out drunk right where you were? You know that men would have loved to take advantage of that._ Maka cursed herself; she had forgotten one little detail about her mother. Through her snakes she could see, hear, and, if she so pleased, speak with others from long distances. Apparently, her magical serpents had the ability to survive colder weather.

_And here I thought I told you not to act like a senseless tourist_, continued the witch, sounding like a mother rebuking a small child. _Guess that means you still haven't learned a thing._

"Shut up!" yelled the girl, trying to block out her voice. "I don't need your help."

_And I don't need to tell you to take those two boys' souls? _Frozen in place, Maka jerked her head up to gaze despairingly at the boys, not wanting to perpetrate what was being asked of her. _Nonsense – they would never understand, my dear. Right now, they're looking at you like you're insane. _

"But I am insane," said the girl, downheartedly.

_And that's all they can see. A crazy little girl who needs to be locked up in a small, dark room. _The hate in Maka's head turned to fear at the last three words. _Locked away in a room with, nothing better to do than stare at the walls. Rotting away, as minutes go by like hours and hours stretch into days. The best thing to do right now is deal with them so they can't drag you off into that dark, secluded place._

Watching her stand there, rigid, for a good minute, the witch wondered if the girl wasn't broken again. "But... I don't want to," Maka protested feebly, in the tone of a defeated child.

_There are always things out there that we would rather not do, but they must be dealt with. So, take care of them now, my dear. _

Almost instantaneously, the overcoming of her normal self – at least normal for her – by madness was foretold by a faint giggle. She didn't know when she'd started staring at the ground, but it was not all that important when she looked up. Filled with the insane playfulness, her wide eyes shone with excitement as her mouth twisted itself into an awkward but vicious smile. "Time to play," she announced, the monster within her released.

Taking several large steps away from the girl, Crona said, his voice calm, "Soul, get ready." The change the girl went through had shocked him a little, but what truly caught him off guard were her eyes. They were still the same green, certainly, but now the girl's gleaming emerald orbs looked not upon two human beings, but two creatures with which to amuse herself.

Stepping closer to his meister, Soul's arms extended tensely as he prepared to fight. "Just wait a moment," said his meister, who was examining the girl. "Just because she suddenly lost it doesn't necessarily mean she's a threat." She was radiating ill intent, and sure, she had a mean right hook, but he'd been caught by surprise and didn't plan on taking a second hit so easily.

Even though he didn't like it, the weapon gave a nod. "Okay, but the moment she does something out of line I'm transforming." Nodding his head in acknowledgment, the meister knew all too well that things could turn sour quickly.

Taking a step forward, staggering a little as if with intoxication, she said through her crooked smile, "Want to play, toys?"

"I think I liked it better when you called me cotton candy head," said Crona, who had to admit being called that was a step above being called a toy. At least he'd been considered a person before.

She opened up and laughed aloud as if he'd made a joke. After the burst of laughter settled, she sang, "Oh Ragnarok, oh Ragnarok, time to came out and play…" With her arm stretched out, her hand clamped sharply onto empty air, though molded as if she was holding something.

The broadsword appeared first as an outline, glowing a light hue of purple. Then the obsidian blade resolved itself, scattering its glow to the wind to leave the white strip and the strange red lips the most striking features upon it. "Finally," said the blade, its lips pulled back into a maleficent grin, "took you long enough to come out." As she answered the blade with another giggle, he added, "Cream those suckers."

With unnatural speed for a person so obviously malnourished, she easily closed the gap between the three of them and sliced away. Forced to break away from each other in evasion, the boys leapt to opposite sides of the street, each unable to join the other for the girl now stood between them. Glancing cuttingly between the two, she asked, "Which one should I go after first? The cute one, or the funny looking one?"

"Don't care. Just kill."

Choosing to go for Crona, she sprinted straight toward him, the blade drawn back to deal maximal damage to the torso. "Hey!" shouted Soul, hoping to draw her attention to himself, "Why play with the sissy over there when you can face another weapon?" This did nothing to discourage her, but in some crevice of her her mind she filed that little interesting outburst away for later.

Seeing as her target was unarmed and cornered, she swung the blade expecting an easy kill. Instead of standing there quivering in fear, he ducked her strike and rolled to the side to get some distance from the building. A little upset by this, she moved forward swinging the blade for the vitals, certain that the long reach of the sword should able to down him. Yet with each swing he would smoothly dodge, not even being nicked. If she swung from the sides he simply skipped away and backpedalled. If she cut upward or downward he would slip to one side or the other. And the most frustrating thing about it was that – to her eyes – he wasn't even trying.

Hardly sweating, breathing steady and level, he betrayed no sign of tiredness. "So you're fit," she said with a scowl. "It isn't going to change the outcome." To that Crona just offered an easygoing smile, which was about the only reply he could give. This wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but if it weren't for the effort she was hurling into killing him this would had been amusing, which got her even more infuriated.

Trying to get to his partner to assist, Soul, who had already turned one of his arms into a curved blade, kept getting close to the fight. However, he couldn't get by the girl, who made herself an excellent obstacle. Somehow each time he grew near she knew he was there, and would quickly twirl the sword around and ward him to a reasonable distance. "You'll get your turn soon enough," she would spit before returning her attention to the pink-haired boy.

Due to this minor distraction, Crona was able to sidestep a clumsy strike. As he dodged the blade he pulled back his fist, hoping to get a hit in. With only moments to get by her, he rushed into a good position and punched her right above her ear. All this did was momentarily stun her, but it gave him all the time he needed. Ducking behind her, he shoved her, sending her stumbling forward.

While she was busy skipping on one foot and trying to recover equilibrium, Crona maneuvered toward his partner, his arms extended. "About time," said the weapon as he leaped into the air, his body enveloped in a blue light. When he came back down he was in weapon form, spinning toward the earth. Sidestepping again, with one hand Crona gripped the middle of the pole while he twirled in a circle. The hand on the pole slid down, halting its motion while his second hand gripped the pole half a foot from the blade.

Coming out of the spin, he held the scythe in guard position, ready to parry the expected attack. However, the girl was still trying to balance herself, arms cycling in the air as she got back on both feet. Finally regaining her footing, she spun around with a small, vicious smile on her face. Staring at the scythe, she said, "So you guys are like me and Ragnarok."

With a rueful smile, the pink haired meister replied, "What are you doing out here? I doubt you're authorized to be away from Death City, much less attacking a fellow meister."

"Hm," she muttered, putting on a thoughtful expression. Digging the tip of the sword into the asphalt, she leaned on it, zoning out with her mouth screwed up in thought. "Death City… Death City… nope, never heard of it." Pulling the sword back out she said, "And why would I need… um, to be auth-o-ri-zed. Thought a girl can take as many souls as she wants."

His grip on the pole tightened as he shot out, "You're a kishin?"

Shrugging, she looked down and asked the sword, "Are we?"

"We hunt human souls, so I guess we are," said the demon, as if he hadn't thought about it himself.

"Oh," she said, sounding exactly like her partner, "that explains why we're crazy, huh?"

Looking up to Crona, her eyes reawakened with insane playfulness. "Doesn't mean we're done playing with you, toy." Covering the distance in two long strides, she was upon him bringing the blade down toward his shoulder. Easily parrying the strike, he knocked it to the side and took a step back to brace himself.

As soon as the sword was parried it came back, and each time it came he shunted it away finding each staggeringly heavy blow a little harder than the last to block. He wanted to examine her style of fighting by giving her the chance to beat at him a little. It was a risky move, for she could also use the time to figure out how to break through his defense, and she was learning fast. When she finally managed to draw a thin ribbon of blood from his forearm, he decided it was time to go on the attack.  
>Dodging the blade by jumping back, he quickly searched for an opening before aiming for her legs. The sword collided with the scythe's pole with a clang, the curved blade point left an inch away from her left leg. Giggling, she jumped straight up and brought the sword with her, letting him withdraw his weapon before pulling himself to the side. Her blade cleaved empty air as she came down, and did so again, lashing through space, when she bolted up and swung diagonally in a wide arc.<p>

Standing a good few yards away from her, he let her clear the distance between them again. She swung the sword to his right, and he blocked like before. Before she could pull away, he turned the scythe's blade so that when he brought it down it was right behind the girl's shoulder, giving him the chance to rip right through it. Probably not an instant kill, but it should render that arm useless at the very least. So he pulled the weapon toward him, fully expecting it to bury itself in her flesh.

A startlingly metallic clunk told him something was very wrong, and unable stop the motion, he pulled the girl caught on the deadly edge of the blade right up to his face, able only to look down at her in shock. A very perky face smiled cheerily back at him. "Surprise," she exclaimed darkly, "you can't kill me."

Making the most logical move he could in the improbable situation, he brought the blade up over her shoulder and hurried several steps back. Back in a defensive position, he spoke without expecting an answer. "That should have done damage. How did you...?"

"Remember my song?" she said with a pout, "My blood is black." Pointing to the scythe blade, she added, "See, there's some." Taking a glimpse, he saw what she meant. A black fluid was flowing along the curve of the blade, dripping off its point. "If you can't cut me, you can't kill me."

Turning his gaze back on the girl, he stared her down and kept his face far calmer than he actually felt. At least, he thought his demeanor was calm. The girl just grinned as, with both hands locked on to her weapon's hilt, she turned the blade's lips toward them. "Ragnarok," she whispered, "Scream Resonance."

Ragnarok's tongue moistened the grinning lips before he emitted a terrible noise. Screaming from the depths of the soul, blood lust, hunger, and malice mixed into one as it radiated outward. The sound covered over a half mile radius; most unfortunate enough to be anywhere near the epicenter were brought to their knees. Not too far away, with his hands over his sensitive ears, the robed figure gnashed his teeth as the scream nailed itself into his head. "Not good," he muttered out, "she just pinpointed herself."

Being so near the scream, Crona endured its maddening effect as he kept his stance. Staring at the sword, he saw it was now vibrating rapidly, yet the girl was somehow able to hold it steady. Unlike him, she was completely unfazed by the screaming bombardment of noise as she positioned the blade to stab. It took a minute for the screams to come to a tolerable level. It was still painful, but at least it wasn't paralyzing anymore.

During this short time the two meisters stared each other down, neither making a move. "Your ears are bleeding," noted the girl, just wondering if he knew. He could feel something coming out of his throbbing ears, but his focus remained on her. "You might want to get that checked out – if you somehow survive, that is." With that little piece of friendly advice aside, she dashed forward and jabbed once aiming for the right side of his torso.

He smoothly moved his body away and placed the scythe's pole to his right, anticipating the oncoming attack. Sure enough she loosened her grip on the hilt so the vibrating blade edge was angled toward him. She quickly got the leverage she needed and slammed it dead into the scythe. What Crona didn't anticipate was that the blade behaved somewhat like a chainsaw. When the two weapons made contact, the strike was not deflected.

The ghastly sword's sharp edge sawed violently into the pole, causing Crona's partner to howl out. Lifeblood gushed out, splattering to the ground as the blade cut in. A pinch of anger flashed in the pink-haired meister's eyes as he gave up ground. Once he'd jumped back a good several feet, he asked quietly, "Soul, what just happened?"

"I was being sawed in two, that's what," exclaimed the weapon, holding in a grunt of pain.

"We need to get out of here," Crona realized as he edged backward, inching away from the girl. "Too many hits like that and you're as good as dead."

"Oh, no you don't, toy," shouted the girl, running straight at them. "We're not done playing until either I say so or you break!" In range, she swung in a wide arc, forcing him to fall back.

"Use me to block!" Soul barked as his meister narrowly evaded swing after swing.

"Do you want to die?" Crona cried as he jumped over the blade. While still rising, he pulled the scythe back and swung downward to catch her sharply at the neck. Rolling her eyes at the effect, the girl pushed the blade away and let him back into a good position to continue his evading. "Stop toying with me!" he shouted, feeling like a mouse being released by the cat for pure sick amusement.

"Why?" said she, whooping in excitement. "I'm having too much fun!"

Unfortunately for Crona, he became less entertaining when he tripped on something. With little time to react, he fell down and landed hard on his tailbone. He didn't fall a great distance to the asphalt, but he landed on just right place to send a jolt of pain from the area. Gritting his teeth, he tried to get back up, but was halted beneath the sword point poised at his throat.

"Hope that weapon of yours can hold out," she said, staring right into his eyes. "Because if he doesn't," –she flipped the sword and raised it into the air, ready to cut him in two–, "bye-bye to the two of you!"

Seeing no other choice in the matter, he looked down to the partner that lay across his lap and whispered one word.

"Sorry."

Bringing the pole up in defense, he locked his teeth and silently cursed himself as unblinking eyes watched the sword lurch to its highest point. "Sweet dreams," she said softly, her eyes milky and dazzled, her voice euphoric. Before the executioner could bring down her blade, something whistled above the boy's head to slam squarely into the girl's chest. Her not having seen it coming, it was able to sink deep enough into her breastbone to lodge when her blood hardened. It may have not done much damage, but the fine military combat knife had drawn everyone's attention to it. Blinking at the piece of metal sticking out of her chest, the girl stated the obvious. "It's a knife."

"No shit, Sherlock," exclaimed the sword. "Where it came from is a little more important right now."

Hearing boots hitting the asphalt, she looked up to see that something big and blue was charging straight toward them. Jumping over the boy, it hurled a knee clear into her face, forcing her to back away. "Ow," she yelped, backing off. A hand gripped the hilt of the knife as an elbow rammed into her nose. Stumbling back, she barely kept hold of her sword as a hand darted to cover her face, protecting it from further harm. As she retreated, the serrated knife was roughly yanked out of her chest, adding the pain she was in.

Grinning, Crona said to his savior, "Sorry for missing the meeting. As you can see, I've been kept a bit busy."

"That's alright," said Sid, sinking into an offensive stance. "Good job staying alive. Now take a break and let me take care of her."

* * *

><p><strong>Daisy:<strong> Next time on Soul Eater: A Switch-A-Roo.

**Maka: ***Screams* Big blue ape!

**Sid:** I'm a zombie.

**Maka:** Big blue dead ape!

**Sid****:** Okay, now you're doing that just to annoy me.

**Medusa: **Hm... things might get interesting, but I got other things to worry about. Just make sure she doesn't die my faithful servant.

**?:** Yes, Lady Medusa.

**Maka: **Next time- Big blue ape v.s. the crazy girl: The witch makes friends with father winter? Read it or I'll...

**Sistine: **She'll take your soul, fried it, and serve it with tartar sauce.

Maka: Where the hell you come?

Sistine: Nowhere and everywhere. *Than disappear in a flash*

Daisy: Guess she wanted to check on how things going. Wonder how she like the why I did Medusa's hair?

Black*Star: It sure does lighten her up a bit.

Medusa: Oh shut up. Daisy, would you please release me from this torture and end this? *Get stare from the assassin and weapon.* What?

Black*Star: You just said please... What did she *Pointing to Daisy who was tending a venus flytrap* able you to act like this.

Daisy: If she doesn't want to say anything she doesn't have to. As for the reader, please review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome. Until next time, have a good day.


	5. Chapter 5

Daisy: *Picking a plum from a fruit tree when Black*Star arrive. Turning her attention on the assassin.* Hey Star. You got my note.

Black*Star: *Take look at the lush green garden.* Whoa... this place is sure is green.

Daisy: Do you like? Pretty no?

Black*Star: I guess... Hey, mind giving one of those. *Catch plum and take a bite.* Thanks.

Daisy: You're welcome. Oh, *Run off someone.* please start the chapter without me.

Black*Star: Okay. Well people, enjoyed this chapter that have nothing to do with me. Come on Mulleb, when do I get the spot light?

* * *

><p>Chapter Five<p>

Sid's stance was a loose one as he stared keenly at the girl, ready to strike out, but as much ready to evade if need be. However, knowing that two of his comrades, down if not out, were right behind him, there was no way he would give ground until the downed meister and weapon pair could get away. "Leave her to me," he ordered, in a tone that left no room for debate. "I'll finish this."

Getting gingerly to his feet, Crona said, "If you say so…"

Noting the hesitation in his voice, the zombie asked, "What do I need to know about her?" With his head he nodded toward the girl, who for the moment was still trying to recover from the pain she was in. "Doesn't look like anything special to me."

"Stupid big blue ape," spat the girl as she moved her hand away from her face. Her nose was red and a bit swollen, but she seemed none the worse. "I don't like repeating myself, so listen up. My blood is black. Try to cut my skin and my blood will stop any lousy weapon in its tracks. All you'll do in the end is irritate me."

Glancing behind his back, he got an affirming nod from the pink-haired meister. After confirming it, the boy took a quick few paces away, far enough to stay clear of the combatants but to near enough to watch. "So I can't injure you with a blade," Sid said carefully as he turned his attention back to the girl.

Nodding her head with an expression to question her new adversary's intelligence, she said, "I thought I told you I don't like repeating myself. Of course you can't hurt me with that little thing." Presenting her blade, she added, "This is a blade that can cause some havoc." To reinforce her statement the sword loosed another piercing scream.  
>Shrugging, Sid said, "That shouldn't be too much of a problem." Glancing down to his knife, he said, "Nygus, time to change into something more appropriate." Of a mind with her partner, the knife promptly emitted a white glow. Resting the knife over his shoulder, he stood listening as the girl laughed in ridicule.<p>

"Oh," she said, bending over the arm she slung across her midsection. "Nice trick – going to flash me to death?" With a confident smirk, his free hand propped above his hip, the zombie stood steady as his partner completed a transformation. Sid shifted slightly to adjust to the new weight; what had recently been a knife was left a large, solid gravestone in the shape a cross. Dumbfounded, the girl gawked in disbelief, and the zombie used this time to formulate a plan.

"That knife just turned into a gravestone," Maka said, a small, undeniable part of her shaken by the symbolism.

"Nothing to worry about," said the sword, unfazed. "How is he going to hit us with that heavy thing? Keep out of reach and we should be…." Deciding it time to attack, Sid sprinted toward them, his speed barely hampered by the gravestone. Within seconds he was just before the stunned girl, ready to swing the block of stone downward.

"Eep!" she yelped as she jumped backward. Her feet were on the ground for but an instant before the zombie was in front of her again, bludgeoning the square base for her head. Evading with a backbend, she executed a single back flip before landing on her feet again – and again he was there, taking another swing, which she somewhat managed to block by locking the sword on her right. Unable to keep her ground, she was forced into a skid, her shoes fighting for traction as she slid in a semi-circle.

She came to a stop only when the zombie pulled the grave back to gather lost momentum, and while he did this she took the opportunity to get a good distance from him.

Oh, she wasn't running away; she was simply aiming to ensure that he didn't succeed in oldest and simplest method of killing as she tried to calm down – beating the victim into submission.

Of course, for a brief example, when one beats away at an armored foe with a wooden club or the like, the likelihood of the assailant inflicting much harm is low. However, when armed with a mace – a blunt metal sphere attached to a handle – the goal of beating at the armor lies not in breaking through the metal shell. Instead, the shock of impact is liable to cause the underlying skin and flesh to bruise, cause internal bleeding, or shatter bones. Thus the goal becomes simply to beat the armored combatant until he or she can no longer move, leaving him or her too crippled to fight.

The situation at hand bore a similar concept, albeit substituting in black blood and a gravestone, and the girl knew it. "Too slow," she unwisely taunted the man. In response the zombie sprinted forward, bearing his weapon down upon her head. Rolling to the side, she barely evaded in time to see a fair-sized dent buckling into the ground where she'd stood. Stop evading, she thought to herself. Need to go on the attack…!

Her opponent had no intention of providing such an opportunity. Relentless, he came at her swinging, the gravestone sailing in large arcs that she barely scrambled from the path of most of the time. Tired of playing the defensive, when he slammed his weapon down once more, she heaved her weapon into the flank of the stone. As with the scythe, when the two connected the sword dug abrasively into the gravestone's side, causing Nygus to grunt in pain.

Hardly fazed, Sid's right arm shot out, fingers locking around her skull in a firm grip. Startled by the action, the girl yanked Ragnarok free of the stone and swung the demon sword wildly, trying to make contact with the zombie's arm. Lifting her in the air, Sid held her there for a moment and watched her squirm, his face drawn in a sad frown. Drawing his arm back with a glance to the side, he turned to plow the girl's body into the building.

Her head was first to make contact with the wooden structure cracking hard against it, imprinting on the wall a dent roughly the size of her head. The rest of her body followed suit, causing the girl to gasp out in pain as her back and ribs hit it full on. Only then did the hand let go, allowing her to fall into the oncoming knee; it jammed harshly into her gut, forcing the breath out of her as she was slammed into the building again. For a second she felt her knee graze the earth – her body falling into a kneeling position – before the zombie roundhouse kicked her square in the cheek.

She was sent twisting and flying back into the middle of the street, winded and immersed in pain. On the ground again, her back to the sky, she propped herself shakily on her arms. Somehow she had kept her grip on the sword throughout the brutal assault, and as she coughed blood into her hand the blade shouted out: "Move, now!"  
>In the air directly over the girl, Sid proclaimed, "Living end!" Hearing this with widening eyes, the girl spared no time in rolling aside. Coming down hard, the gravestone impressed itself in the earth as a bright, glaring yellow cross shone out in the night. The dust cleared to reveal Sid standing there, leaning on the gravestone as he stared down the girl.<p>

Breathing heavily, she was standing up, glaring at the zombie, that insane playfulness lost, buried by something new in her eyes. The two who recognized it were the scythe meister and his weapon. Now in his human form, Soul was nursing the lateral cut across his chest. Thankfully, Crona had been carrying bandages and some salve, which he'd just finished using to tend to their wounds.

"I think she's afraid," Crona realized, certainty settling the moment he voiced his guess aloud. Looking at the girl's stance, his partner nodded in agreement. No longer eerily carefree and dangerous, she resembled very much an animal deciding whether to run or fight. And had they view of her eyes, they would have seen them filled to the brim with fear. This brand of fear, the most primal of them all, was the fear of compromised survival.

"I wasn't the sort of man who would beat up little girls to the brink of death," said Sid as he hefted the gravestone back over his shoulder. "Why not make it easy on yourself and surrender? I might just be able to let you live if you cooperate."

For a moment the girl glared at him, unresponsive. Then a smile creased her face. "No way." Bringing the blade up to her hand, she sliced the flesh of her palm, letting the black fluid pour out freely. "There is no way I'm going to lose to an ape." Sprinting forward suddenly, she extended the bleeding hand and hissed, "Bloody Needle!"

A black skewer of hardened blood lanced from her palm, just grazing Sid's body as he sidestepped. The moment after passing it liquefied again, the blood splattering to the ground. Not given the time to contemplate what had just happened, the zombie jumped back as a sword cleaved the air. Glad to finally be attacking, the girl hacked away furiously, bent on making violent contact with the shifting blue skin before her.

Unfortunately for her, Sid had no such plans of being killed and easily evaded the attacks, growing tired of this fight. "Sid," said Nygus, taking notice of something strange. "Each time the girl strikes out, when she draws the blade back she keeps on nicking herself." This brought to light, he saw what his partner was talking about. For whatever reason, probably from exhaustion, the girl had become clumsy. Dozens of small cuts were oozing blood, dripping to the very ground upon which the combatants danced.

_Wait a minute_, thought the zombie. _Her blood should be able to clot on impact. Why is it_...? Abandoning the thought, he swung the grave automatically as any seasoned fighter when he sighted an opening, plowing it into the girl's gut. He watched as more of the onyx fluid flew out of her mouth before she bounced and flopped several times down the street. _This is just getting sad_, he thought, but started when he heard her giggle.

"Stupid ape," she said, the words spat out alongside more flecks of blood. Though struggling just to get back on her feet, she smirked as if the battle was hers. "I said I'm not going to lose, and I meant it."

Feeling a jab of pain in his left leg, Sid glanced down to see that spill blood had of its own volition attacked him. Scanning the area, he found that not a single drop of blood the girl had lost had been wasted. Either crawling through the dirt or floating as small spheres, dotted with eyes, it had surrounded him. He was left nowhere to go. "Ha, ha," trilled the blood in triumph, "try to get away now!"

"Bloody Needle!" declared the girl and blood, victoriously, as one. Both she and Ragnarok certainly thought they'd won, but Crona and his partner knew better. Their mentor had one more trick up his sleeve – one they'd had a particular problem with on the incident they had fought him. Perhaps a story for another time, it had taken place a while back, but to say the least it had been an unpleasant experience for Soul, Black*Star, Tsubaki, and him.

The girl was about to learn of this annoying ability. Before the blood could inflict any real harm, the zombie disappeared into the earth below, leaving the deadly spikes to skewer nothing but vacant air. Eyes widening in disbelief and outrage at this surprise spin, the girl shouted, "No fair! No one told me he could do that."

The same gaping fear from not long ago was returning for her heart; unnerved, she watched as the blood dissolved, not able to keep track of the zombie. "Maka," said the blade, trying to keep a cool demeanor, "activate that soul perception of yours." Doing so, she scanned the ground before her, hoping that somehow her gaze could pierce the layers of earth and pin down the undead soul.

"I can't find him," she gasped, her voice fast and wispy, weak with panic. This was not fun anymore, not at all. At first she could at least let the madness reign free, bidding it do as it wished, but her emotions were quick to surface. Truthfully, she probably had always been swift to anger, but the madness had in some ways magnified things, made her emotions all the more... potent than they rightly ought be, which left her at times in the state she was experiencing at that moment.

"Keep it together," said the sword, not feeling all too confident himself at the moment. This was the first time he or his meister had faced a being they could not match. "You're letting yourself get strung out with fear. Calm down and keep it together."

Cracking into giggles, she said, "Yeah, sure, stay calm while a big, blue ape is somewhere underground wielding a half-ton gravestone. Oh, and did I mention he wants to crack us open like a nut?"

Before the demon could reply to the disturbing analogy, they heard a crunching noise. "Behind you!" he screamed – rather unnecessarily, for in that moment Maka had picked up on the zombie's soul wavelength. Twisting as she flung herself forward, she watched as Sid exploded from the ground. She barely missed being hit by the gravestone's base, and before she could strike back he dived headfirst into the ground, vanishing.

"How the hell am I supposed to fight that?" she demanded. Deciding it in her best interest to stay on the move, she dashed down the street toward the pink-haired meister and his weapon. "Maybe if I threaten them, he'll leave me be," she said to the sword.

"Don't ask me!" replied the weapon, "You're the brains of the pair of us, not me!" However nice it was to hear him admit it, it didn't help right that moment – instead, it became the least of her concerns. More crunching to her right, and she jumped back as the man erupted right at her side. Sailing past her as he swung, he missed narrowly again, taking out a chunk of the unfortunate building he hit instead.

Trying to get close enough, she swung out screaming – only to attack the same spot that the zombie did. She looked down at the sidewalk with a grimace; the building panic was starting to get the best of her. _Think, you idiot, think. There's got to be something I can do to counter that._ Dodging another attempt on her life, an idea finally popped into her head. She was by no means sure how well it would work.

Unfortunately for her, it became her only choice. She moved a little too slowly; the gravestone managed to nick her in the side. Because the thing was huge, heavy, and moving pretty fast, just being glanced caused some damage. Sent rolling on the ground, she went a few yards before coming to a halt. This time when she rose she used Ragnarok for support, and still she struggled.

"One more hit and we're going to have some broken bones," said the sword once she was on her feet. As she scanned the ground, trying to see through it, the sword added, "Whatever you came up with, you'd better do it now. I've been able to cushion the blows somewhat, but we're taking too many hits."

Something snapped within her. No longer able to hold it in, she loosed a scream of frustration as she lifted the sword up, its point aimed at the ground. Totally lost at the action, the sword spoke. "…What are you doing?"

Not answering, she stabbed downward, plunging half of the blade into the earth in one move. Angered that she couldn't shoved it all the way down, she lifted her foot up and stomped on the hilt until it was near the ground. "Wait– yowch–! Don't!" exclaimed the blade as Maka jumped onto the hilt. With the weight of her body, wiry though it was, crashing angrily down on it she sent the whole blade into the earth, leaving the hilt alone protruding.

"Ragnarok!" she yelled at the night sky, "Scream Alpha EARTHQUAKE!"

Back with the scythe team, Crona and Soul looked at the girl, more than a little skeptical. "She can't do that," said Crona, breaking character. "Since when could the black blood allow you to do that?"

Unwisely following his example, Soul shrugged. "Beats me. Guess Mulleb isn't thinking straight." They shut up as the ground beneath their feet jolted violently; buildings that were built to withstand a good shaking stood firmly, while others showed signs of impending collapse. "What the..." was all he managed to say before it was unleashed.

A blackish-purple mass burst with a resounding roar from the earth, tearing through the ground and buildings alike. Spreading from the girl, it raced away from her, bolting and zigzagging in patterns with not an ounce of order to be found in them. As the thing broke out fully, a shriek similar to the one from early followed it. It scared the crap out of the living, dead, and kishin alike as they saw the thing skyrocket into the sky.

Underground, Sid was nearly hewn in two, almost losing his left leg, when he quickly moved out of the way. Still, due to a sound wave that traveled far quicker than he could through the earth, he was left momentarily stunned. _Such power, he though, from one so young! Her speed wasn't something to scoff at, either. I need to take her down before she can cause any more harm…_

It was a tad late for that. As the attack subsided, it could be noted that the collateral damage he and the rest had tried so hard to contain was devastating. An entire block was being demolished; buildings caved in in defeat, and the street was rent with giant cracks that would make it impassable to the average person.

One pink haired meister would almost certainly have had half of his feet broken off if Soul hadn't pulled him back. Splayed on the ground and gawking at the destruction, they didn't notice the piece of paper floating down from the sky until it landed on Crona's head. Grabbing it in a trembling hand, he saw that it was a note. Soul got closer to read it as well; what it said wasn't all too comforting.

Dear Crona and Soul,

Crona may not be in "normal" character, but that does not give him the right to break it once so every. So if I see any of you try to do it again. I'LL MAKE SURE THAT MORE THAN A LIMB IS CUT OFF AS PUNISMENT. Understand?

They both nodded their heads.

That's all I've got to say.

Sincerely,

Mulleb

A gust of wind snatched the note from his grasp and, when far enough to do no harm, it spontaneously combusted, burning until there was nothing left of its otherworldly fibers but ashes.

"Okay..." said Crona, "even if that was a little cliché, that is still a bit frightening." Nodding in agreement, Soul turned his attention to the girl and attempted to rid his mind of what just happened.

Staring at the ground, Maka bent over and gripped the sword hilt in both hands. With one strong tug she pulled it out, stumbling a little as it came loose. "Pfeh," shouted Ragnarok as he spat out soil and asphalt. If he'd had hands at the moment, he would have been wiping off his writhing tongue. As it moved from side to side to shake off dust and dirt, he groaned, "Why did I open my pie hole?"

Inhaling deeply, she said, staring at the ground, "I'll get you something to wash out the taste after we're done." Seeing that the earth had fallen calm, she gave a sigh of relief. "I think we got him."

"Not quite," said the zombie who popped into existence right in front of her. His hands were empty when he gave her a light shove, but that was all he needed. Already caught off guard by his sudden appearance, she'd tried to back off and, with the help of Sid, tripped over the edge of something made of stone.

As she fell backwards, she watched the world flee her sight until with a sharp thump on her back she was staring up at a bleak night sky. But then the skies disappeared, extinguished by something that slid into place above her. She wasn't worried at first, but as she moved her arms and legs around, pure terror slowly gripped her heart.

She was in a stone coffin. It was a large one at that, but a coffin never the less. If she wanted she could roll onto her back, but there was room for little more; she had not enough room to use the sword, the only thing that could possibly get her free. Fears of being locked in a closed space, of darkness, and of being buried alive had robbed her of sense in a way that even madness could not.

To be buried alive in this tight little box with nothing more than her last breaths and Ragnarok for company… it was all too much for the terror-stricken girl. She let go of the sword and beat her hands against the stone lid. "Let me out!" she yelled, her voice and her helplessness booming around her, overwhelming in the closed space. "Please, I'll do anything you want… I don't want to be buried alive!"

She continued to scream and plead as Sid drew the knife from its sheath. "Listen to her scream," said Nygus. Even though the stone coffin muffled her voice, the sheer noise was loud enough to be heard up to a yard or so away. Changing back into a gravestone, she asked, "Should we leave her in there? She'll die of fear or lack of oxygen if she keeps doing that."

"I wasn't the type of man to let anyone suffer a painful death if an alternative is at all possible," stated the zombie as he got ready to deliver the final blow. For a moment he thought that he could hear the girl sobbing. Just a moment, but that was enough to reinforce his will to end this quickly. Leaping high into the air, over the coffin, he shouted, "Living End!" As before, a bright yellow light taking the shape of a cross pierced the night, but this time, as he bore down upon his target, he did not miss.

The solid base slammed through the lid, shattering it to pieces and sending dust flying. He felt the bludgeon connect with the girl's chest, and there was a sickening crunch of cracking bones. After a moment's stillness he leaped out of the dust cloud, but not because he thought she'd somehow survived. He didn't want to stare into the dead eyes of a child and witness the carnage of her demise up close.

The dust settled. He saw that she was lying still, unmoving.

"You're… hard to kill," he said after a minute. Her arm, which had let go of the hilt, gripped the sword once more. Ever so slowly, she worked to rise to her hands and knees, pain written all over her face as she glared at the zombie.

Instead of the caved-in chest he would have expected, her body seemed intact on first glance. He knew better. He'd heard the creaking of ribs. And if this girl, snarling like a cornered beast, hadn't heard it, she would be feeling it by now.

With no pretense, however, the fury melted from her face; murder drained from exhausted, dull-green eyes. Placing the sword under her, using it as support, she said, "We lost, didn't we?"

"We're so dead," said the sword, "Most of your ribs are either busted or cracked. There's so much internal bleeding going on I'm having a hard time just staying in weapon form – if we don't get out of here, you'll bleed to death...!"

She tried to laugh, but the pain caused her to cough up blood instead – and no small amount of it. "Ironic," she said, a thin trail of black leaking steadily earthward from the lip of a weak and jovial smile as what was left of her glower faded into a simple gaze. "My awesome blood can harden instantaneously and protect me, and I'm about to die of blood loss." Wiping a gloved hand numbly over the corner of mouth, she said, "But I'm still alive." Leaning on the sword, she added, "As long as I live, you can't have total victory, can you?"

Taking pity on this scrawny young demon, Sid said, "The offer to surrender is still up for grabs. I can't promise you'll live, but I can at least offer you a quick and painless death, on another day..."

Rolling her eyes woozily, she said, "Yeah, right. I'd rather die… of my own free will." Mustering up whatever strength she had left, she stood on her own two feet and managed to lift the sword to her side. "Strike me down," she said finally, staring down and accepting the embrace of death. Her eyes drifted upward, unfocused. "Give me peace from living hell."

"H-hey," exclaimed the sword as it zoomed into her body. Popping out of her back, the creature that was Ragnarok said, "Don't I get a say in this?" The girl kept quiet, caring little at this point what he had to say. Sighing, the demon disappeared into her body to fortify their blood.

"Is that your final decision?" asked the zombie softly, impressed by how calm she was. With a nod of her head, she willfully sealed her fate. He walked toward her; the gravestone was slowly drawn back, leveled to smash into her head from the side. A clean decapitation: that was what he offered. "Then rest in peace."

From some place in the distance, there issued the unnaturally piercing howl of a wolf, causing the victor to stop in his tracks. "What in the world…?" he said. Wolves, if they could, would typically avoid cities at all costs; Sid knew this to be fact. Why did one sound so close?

A smile break across the girl's face as she said, "Took you long enough."

A ways off, a huge, gray-and-black figure raced through the streets. He could smell a profusion of blood from the one he'd been tasked to watch over. His orders were to leave her be unless she was in extreme danger. Understanding that being beaten within an inch of death would qualify as extreme danger, he had cast the cloak aside and exploded into his wolf form.

He traversed the distance as fast as he was physically able; he'd be damned if he let her get killed under his watch. On all fours he barreled on, covering the relatively short distance in well under a minute. During this time, Maka was feeling a strange mixture of joy and dismay. As appealing as death was at the moment, the second a flicker of hope sparked back to life, she realized that she quite certainly didn't want to die. Not yet, anyway. Briefly the two feelings tangled until the desire to live won out.  
>"Better kill me now," she mocked as a small smile crossed her bloodied face, using one eye to glance over her shoulder while the other stayed on him. "Because this might be the only chance you get."<p>

Somehow knowing that her words were the truth, Sid dashed forward, intent on finishing this before whatever was coming could stop him. He was too slow. Just an inch away from delivering the deathblow he was forced to use the gravestone to block as something plowed into him with impossible power. Claws buried themselves in stone as a jaw full of glinting teeth snapped at the meister's face.

When he hit the ground, he skidded a foot before he somehow forced his attacker off. Quickly backing to his feet, Sid watched as the huge wolf rose up on two legs, crouched protectively in front of his charge.

"Wolfie!" squealed the girl with glee. "You made it to the party after all."

"Maka," said the wolf, ears flattening in embarrassment. "Not in front of the enemies."

"Oops, sorry, Free."

Staring the wolf – the werewolf, Sid corrected himself, down, he began to wonder how the werewolf with the magic eye had managed to escape his prison. However he'd done it, he still bore the marks of his imprisonment, for he was clad in a black and white convict suit while a ball and chain was shackled, perhaps magicked firm, to his ankle. What he could see of its body was coated in dark and unruly hair, but his snout, face, and hands were bare, his skin gray with shorter fur. His left eye was black, but the other – the reason for his title – was white, a triangle diagram etched in red peering blankly from it. And above this enigmatic right eye, in place of an eyebrow, lay a tattoo that read only NOFUTURE.

"Oh, crap," said Soul as he tried to rush forward, "we need to– ack!"

Grabbing him by the collar, Crona pulled the weapon back, reasoning. "I seriously doubt we'd be much help against something that won't die." The weapon turned around to say something, but his meister beat him to the punch. "Sid is a level three meister. If we get in the way, all we'll probably be is a liability. Right now it's best if we hold back and wait and see what happens next." With a reluctant nod, he stayed put as his meister let go of his collar.

Back with combatants, the zombie was a little unsure on how to proceed with the battle. Knowing that the werewolf was immortal, the best he could hope to do was the same thing he'd done to the girl, who had cost him enough effort – beat him down until he can no longer move. However, judging by his size and dangerous gait alone, he was going to more of a challenge than the girl had been. "Free," he said, "that's what you go by?" The werewolf gave a nod. "My business isn't with you, werewolf. Step away from the girl, and I'll let you go."

Grinning like the wolf he was, Free said, "Sorry, but I can't do that. My business is with this one as well; Lady Medusa won't be too pleased if Maka is killed."

Something about the woman's name sounded familiar, but Sid stowed it aside for later pondering. "And what would this 'Lady Medusa' want with her?"

Ignoring him, the wolf muttered, "How badly are you hurt?"

"Multiple scrapes and bruises, cuts, I'm pretty sure most of my ribcage has been shattered, and internal bleeding like hell," the girl listed off bluntly, though the pain in her voice was unmistakable.

_Need to get her medical attention_, thought Free. Thinking quickly, he felt the air, wondering if he could perform any magic attacks. Not cold enough for anything lasting or strong, but there was enough moisture in the air. "Wolf-wolves, wolf-wolves, wolf," he spat out, quicker than Sid could understand. "Icicle Pillars!"

Four large, towering pillars of ice locked around Sid, temporally trapping him. While he tried to figure out how to break out, Free got behind Maka. Squatting down, he oh, so carefully picked her up, truly trying his best to find a hold that would cause her minimal pain. Lifting her bridal style, he said to the girl, "It's going to hurt some when I run, but as soon we're away from here I go into a walk."

In reply she closed her eyes and nodded with gritted teeth, but it still hurt when he leapt away from the oncoming gravestone. Already having escaped the ice prison by going underground, Sid had no intention of letting them get away. Free, however, didn't even attempt to fight back. He just turned tail – mind, no pun intended – and ran as fast as his two legs could carry him. Even on two feet, he would have easily outrun a gold medal Olympian. There was little point for the zombie to attempt pursuit.

A little peeved that the girl had gotten away, Sid said with a sigh, "Well, that could have gone better." Without a word the gravestone morphed back into a knife, which he placed in the sheath. "I don't see how things can get much worse." Hearing the blare of sirens behind them, their battered company quickly figured out how. A half-dozen police patrol cars blazed down the street, stopping a short yard away from Crona.

A dozen officers stepped out of the vehicles, all of them staring at the destruction at first before one of them laid eyes on the pink-haired meister. After exchanging a few words with him he walked up to Sid, a hand on the grip of his pistol. "Sir, are you the person responsible for all of this?"  
>Seeing no way out of this, the zombie fell back on the simplest response he could think of. Putting his hands up in defense, he said, "Before you arrest me, let me explain."<p>

* * *

><p>Off in the heart of the mountains, a tall, muscular man in prison garb leaned on the wall of a hut. His skin was tanned, though it was not easily seen in the candlelight that provided the only illumination for miles around. He was running a hand through unruly black hair, and his pointed ears listened for any trouble that might come. Switching from running his hand through his hair to rubbing his chin's stubble, he kept a keen and steady gaze on the girl.<p>

Lying across from him, Maka was grumbling to herself as the medicine woman, a small, old woman wrapped up in a ramshackle gray coat, finished prodding wrinkled hands on her bare chest. "She has broken her ribs, alright," she stated. "You must be having trouble breathing, child." The girl gave a nod, but after having her chest pushed on for the past minute, she wasn't overly willing to corporate with the old hag.

"She should be in a hospital," she said as she got up and shuffled to a bookshelf filled with bottles and containers. "But seeing as neither of you are welcome in the city, you should bring her somewhere safe and stay hidden for the next two months." Grabbing a small, white, plastic cylindrical container, she walked back over the girl.  
>Opening the lid, she proceeded to apply the ointment to an assortment of bruises and cuts. "This should help ease the pain, but the only true cure left for you now is rest." After she was done massaging the ointment in, she helped the girl ease her shirt back on. "Aside from the damaged bones, bruises, and lacerations, I cannot find anything else wrong."<p>

"Thank you for your time," said the man as he walked toward her. Fetching her payment out of his pocket, he handed it over before kneeling down to lift Maka up. "If there's anything you need me to do, before I leave, I'll be more than happy to help."

"No, no," she said as she slipped the money somewhere in her folds of clothing. "I did what needed to be done. Just make sure that whatever happened to your young friend doesn't happen again." Assuring her it wouldn't, he carried the girl away, nodding in farewell before he headed nimbly down the mountain path. As they descended he could see that something was on the girl's mind. She had an uncharacteristic look of chagrin on her face. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"I lost," she replied bluntly in a moment, staring at her chest to avoid eye contact. "Medusa isn't going to be too pleased about it, and I know Ragnarok's going to be a pain in the ass for the next two months." That was true, for sure, but just the fact she had been so utterly bested left her agitated.

"That isn't something be ashamed of," said Free. "You're alive, aren't you?" Quirking an eyebrow at the obvious question, she gave a nod. "Then you live to fight another day. The next time you meet those guys, you'll be in a position to win."

Grinning, for the logic sounded good to her, she said, "So the next time I meet Cottoncandy Head, he'll be the one with his tail between his legs."

Ignoring the unintended insult, Free smiled back, saying, "Yeah, though I think you should make a point of taking his soul while you're at it."

Agreeing to that, the girl shouted as she flung an outstretched arm out in front of them, "Then onward to a quick recovery!" A sharp pain twinged in her chest as she shouted; quickly she withdrew her arm and shut her mouth.

"But first, we must rest."

"Yeah," she whispered, her eyes threatening to close under the weight of drowsiness. "A good night's sleep would be good..." With that said, within a few minutes she had fallen asleep, her chest rising and falling very slightly as she had a bit of a hard time breathing. The last thought in her mind was of where the witch even was at the moment…

* * *

><p>Out on the icy wasteland of Antarctica's interior, a fierce wind drove cold air and fine flakes of tumbling snow. Night had claimed dominance over the winter skies, the moon taking up its watchful post over the desert of ice, content to wait until spring before surrendering the sky. Traversing this tundra, in which small snow hills served as the sole landmarks, an extremely brave – or extremely foolish – being urged her team of sled dogs forward.<p>

Clothed in multiple layers of clothing, Medusa's outermost covering was a heavy, hooded winter jacket that helped hold body heat in and keep the wind off. Her eyes and most of her face were shielded from the wind and flying ice by a ski mask. Her hands were gloved and feet in many socks, stockings, and snow boots, while her legs were kept warm with long underwear and layers of ordinary and waterproof seal-skin pants.

What little bare skin had been left exposed to the elements was caked in a thin layer of snow, but for the most part she was warm – no matter how uncomfortable, warm enough to survive at least. Unlike the creature she represented she was not cold-blooded, but seeing as the air around her was below sixty plus wind chill, she and her team of huskies were going to need to find shelter soon.

Cracking the whip at hand over the dogs' heads, she tried her best to keep warm and limber as she squatted behind the sled. From time to time, to help ease their burden she would run alongside the beasts, but never for more than maybe fifteenth minutes. After several days of traveling across the barren landscape, she had grown quite tired of it. However, seeing as her destination was near, she would bear with it for another half hour.

Within this time she came upon what she had been seeking. If not for the blizzard she would have long since seen the castle that stood as a fortress to the most vicious of storms. Made of nothing but ice, its tall walls stretched several dozen miles, enclosing whatever lay within its rectangular perimeter in a barricade from the harsh elements. Projecting skyward, several battlement turrets were interspersed along the wall as if prepared for to fend off an invasion of any magnitude. Atop the structure's base sat one more cylindrical keep, towering in supremacy and solitude, that looked very much like an observatory. The entrance to the place was barred by two solid gates, a massive, ice-hewn polar bear's face holding the doors in its gaping mouth. Standing guard at either side of the gate were two large ice sculptures, one of a Viking holding a long-handled ax in both hands and the other an Eskimo holding a spear pointed at the ground, seemingly poised to strike downward.

Pulling up to the gate, she stopped several feet away from the statues. Staring at them, knowing that neither race had ever been near this continent, she shouted as loud as she could, "My arrival is expected." At first nothing happened, causing her to fear her words had been carried off in the wind. Then the Viking slammed the blade of his ax into the ground – a little too closed to the lead sled dog – and moved in front of the doors. With both hands it pushed the doors open with ease, and after it stepped aside she mushed her team through the gates.

Once through, the Viking closed the gate behind her, causing the area to shake as the doors shut with a slam. Now that her team was out of the wind, she climbed from the sled and unpacked the boxes of meat she'd brought along. If given the choice she would have much sooner flown here, but what with the fast, gusting winds, the next best option had been the team of sled dogs.

Promptly feeding her team, she ordered them to stay put, which she known that they would. Being well trained, they wouldn't move unless starvation or thirst threatened to claim their lives.

As she advanced deeper into the castle, she glanced at the slick walls beside her. Gleaming from the light of candles held in the grip of lanterns, the bare walls reflected her image. As she went she started to shed some of her bundled clothing, for it grew gradually warmer. By no means was it normal room temperature, but compared to outside it was like stepping into the tropics.

For some time she walked through the halls not knowing where she was going, but was confident she would find her way soon enough. Truthfully, when she came upon the place she sought she wasn't so sure whether she shouldn't turn around and forget her ambition, or at least change the plan. However, since she had already journeyed here she might as well go through with it.

The room she entered was huge. Large pillars shaped in the style of Roman architecture supported a high ceiling. Scattered about were magnificent weapons on display, armor, paintings, sculptures, and furniture from a plethora of time periods, no real order to them but for seeming loosely grouped with other artifacts from similar eras. Centered in the middle of the room was a rising, rounded platform, steps chipped into it sides. At its peak were a table and two chairs, placed at a lofty height from which one could view all the treasures the room contained.

And sitting in one of the chairs was the person she wanted to talk to. After making her way to the top of the platform, she got a good look at the man before her. Of average build and size, one could say he looked as old as time itself. His thin hair was a snowy dust of white, along with a beard that held some bits of frost. Sharp eyes were a sky blue, full of life but contained in a failing body. Creases and folds in his pale skin offered some tell of a time when he was more robust.

Wearing nothing more than a white fur coat and a pants, he seemed perfectly at ease with the cold climate. He gave her a toothy grin, which in fact revealed several teeth to be missing; she had to remind herself that even though this frail old man was in failing health, before her was quite possibly one of the strongest warlocks alive. And if he desired it, even if she were not within his domain, he could kill her without a second thought.

"Good evening," she said as she took the empty seat. "Excuse me if I don't call you by your name, but what do you call yourself nowadays?"

"Ah," he said, a fog billowing out of his mouth as he exhaled, "it's been so long since someone asked me that. My sons and daughters call me Pater or simply father, and my now departed wives by various names. The world has known me as Father Winter, Boreas, and Winter Snow, to name just a few. However, you may call me Jack Frost."

Lacing his hands together and propping his elbows on the table, he closed his eyes as he said in a serious tone, "Why, are you here, witch? What force would drive you into the realm of your dear queen's enemy?"

"Medusa," she said, making known her name. "Please address me as that. As for Mabaa, she does not know I'm here."

For a moment the man sat there, unmoved, but a friendly chuckle followed his words. "She's losing her grip with each passing day, isn't she?" It was a statement, not a question. Without his moving or muttering so much as a word, ice started to gather between the two until it was shaped into a chessboard. Then several pieces appeared, each bearing a stunning resemblance to the person he wished it to represent.

On the side closest to the warlock was the man himself, standing up with a smile on his face and looking several hundred years younger. At the other end resided Mabaa, the leader of witches. Small for her size, she wore a black robe with several large safety pins fastened in it. A black cape, it edges in tatters, fluttered behind her as she hovered in the air. Topping her head was a white, pointed hat which had two red eyes and a sharp-toothed, smiling face sewn into it. Over one of her eye sockets rested a white cloth that had ½ written on it.

In the middle of the board, facing neither side was Medusa herself in her typical outfit. "I'll give her this much," he said without a trace of resentment. "She managed to keep her function of witches under her thumb by power and true leadership." Snapping his eyes open, he added, "Too bad she was arrogant enough to think she could stand against Death. I never did understand why she couldn't reason with the man."

A new piece appeared just off the board, an enigmatic figure cloaked in a hooded robe with a cartoonish mask concealing his face. His features were jagged, legs tapering down from his torso, and a piece of cloth, the tattered hood, seemed to zigzag from atop his head. Yet despite his goofy look this was none other than the deity Death, who was far more powerful than his looks would suggest. "Never understood what was so bad about a little order in things…"

Staring into his eyes, the witch said, "She at least stood up to the tyrant whom you fools wouldn't face."

"There's a difference between bravery and stupidity," he said simply. In two gnarled fingers he plucked up Mabaa's piece and said, "Not my fault that you lot wish to be supreme in all but taking a humble position in life. We have survived and thrived, all while your kind slowly died out." Placing the figure's head between his thumb and ring finger, he squeezed it a little. "To be honest, I'll be happier when you guys are gone – and that's more likely to happen now that a werewolf's taken one of her blasted eyes."

Not being all too careful, he crushed the piece's head, causing it to fall and shatter on the table. As soon as it broke, another piece took its former place on the chessboard. "She can no longer take full pride in her power over space and time, now the wolf has taken her eye. When my time comes, at least I can rest in peace knowing that she too will soon meet her maker."

Appalled by his passive manner, the witch stated, "So you would stand to the side as the weakling you are? Don't you wish to see her dead yourself?"

The chess piece shaped as Medusa moved an inch toward him, but other than that he gave no indication of caring for what had been said. "I was and still am the weaker of the two," he said bluntly. "Ever since I and the other warlocks gave our pledge to live with the humans, the most we could do was keep away from her. While her following grew weaker in numbers, we grew stronger with each child born and with each witch who saw the folly of her ways. Yes, I am weak, but in the end I still have won." A glimmer in the witch's eyes caused him to raise an eyebrow half an inch. "Do you wish to disagree with me?"

"If I remember correctly, some of your young have fallen ill and died of late."

He sat there unmoved, but the merriness in his voice was gone. "How did you know that?"

Crossing her arms below her chest, she said without pause, "The deaths were due to a disease that caused the inflammation and swelling of multiple areas. Being that of the throat, urinary tracts, and brain, it proved difficult to keep it down. Symptoms included painful urination, difficulty breathing, slow speech, impaired motor action, and so many more that it would be meaningless to name them all."

"And how do you know of this?" he repeated, his voice now aggressive.

"Simple – I created the virus that now plagues you."

The air around her abruptly went uncomfortably cold. "Tell me," he said, his voice void of emotion, "within the next thirty seconds why I shouldn't freeze you solid."

"I know the plans with which Mabaa intends to destroy you."

"Keep talking."

"And I know that now is the perfect time to strike if you're willing to assist me."

Brow wrinkling, the warlock said, "Excuse me, but when did this discussion turn to me helping the likes of you?"

"What do you know of the kishin Asura?"

"Wait," he said, getting a little annoyed. "Let us backtrack to Mabaa's plans."

"Ah yes, the horrible disease meant to kill or cripple most of you… and then the mystery murders that will take out all of your most powerful warlocks and witches. After that, those who remain are either are slain or submit to Mabaa's will. That's the gist of it."

"And what does striking out and the kishin have to do with this all?"

"The reason for her actions lies in a sort of paranoia. Every since her eye was removed and the man with the magic eye broke out of his prison, she's been going around cutting loose ends." With a hand she gestured to herself. "I being one of them."

"So you cared little what happened to her… but the kishin?"

"I need to release him to help keep Death's attention occupied."

Eyes wide from disbelief, he sprung to his feet; his chair toppled over as his knobbly hands clapped onto the desk, and he shouted, "Are you mad, woman?"

With a sincere grin, she replied, "Maybe."

Standing rigid, he asked, "You may have been young in those days, but surely even you can remember the chaos that man wrought? That coward of a man brought nothing but destruction, fear, and madness. I wish that Death would have been wise enough to end his life when he had the chance. Sadly, that boy's heart gets in the way of his brains sometimes..." Shaking his head, he added, "His father would have done things differently."

"Head stuck in the past," she commented as she glanced around the room. "Explain all the junk around here."

"It isn't junk," countered the warlock. "They're artifacts of extraordinary value."

"Tokens and memories of your prime and glory," she said, glad that she was slowly wearing him down to see things her way. "From before a time when the Lords of Death kept us down – from a time in which we were in a sense gods above the humans, the mere mortals. That lost pride can never be reclaimed, but you could at least do one last thing before kicking the bucket."

"And that is...?" he said, becoming more uncertain of himself.

"Bring down Mabaa, while the kishin puts Death in his place."

"Why not just take care of Mabaa? I don't see why Death or the kishin need be involved."

"That's because you don't seem to understand that he intends to see Mabaa on her throne for as long as he can."

The warlock gave a surprisingly hearty laugh as he said, "Preposterous! Why in the world would he do that?"

Shrugging, she said, "To keep the witches in their place. Have ever noticed how since the loss of her eye, 'Lord' Death hasn't once made an attempt on her life?" He gave a nod, but his face told her he was still skeptical. "Slowly, her power is decaying with the passing years. She might have been able to hide it for a time, but eventually it was only bound to become known that she is weakening. If I estimate correctly, a team of his greatest meisters could likely manage to bring her to her knees. It would be difficult, but by no means impossible.

"And do you think that fool of a god doesn't know where she is?" the witch continued. "It has been widely known for a while, and yet none of his minions even think to ask why he doesn't dash her away. Oh, understand this – I would like to see Death six feet under. But unless Mabaa, his little partner, paper queen, is taken care of, the division among the witches and other magical beings will grow. So I ask of you this, o great General Winter. Why bide time here until your death when you can finish her off once and for all?"

"General Winter," chuckled the man, "Napoleon and Hitler are old news." But Medusa could see that he was falling into the flattery as he stared off somewhere with a smile. "Hitler was nothing, but Napoleon was one of my more glorious victories. With my help the Russians gave him a good licking."

Chuckling again, he added, "I can't begin to recount how many times that land has been invaded. Their armies for whatever reason always had a hard time fending off outsiders. Probably have to, due to the fact that a good chunk of their land is one great big plain. Then again, when I think about it, those Chinese may be the longest lasting civilization, but they've seen more revolts and takeovers than any in the history of man."

"Ahem," went Medusa, clearing her throat to draw the man back to the present. "So, what is your decision?"

In a quick motion, the old man grabbed a piece and threw it at her. Thinking fast, she caught the object. Opening her hand, she found it to be the chesspiece Death staring up at her.

As she glanced down at the figure, she took note that the chessboard had grown to cover a large chunk of the middle portion of the table. In front of her were Mabaa and her followers, while in front of the warlock his army stood at the ready. To the right were Death's people, while to the left stood she and her band of plotters.  
>"Everything isn't in place," he drawled out, "but know this, snake. I trust you no more than the animal you take after. Take care of him while I take care of her, but first you must convince the others to join us." Righting his chair and planting himself firmly in it, he added, "I'll clear up the blizzard to speed your progress. Now get out of my sight."<p>

Standing up, she gave a small bow and said, "Thank you for your time. It has been an honor to deal with you." With that said, she left the warlock to ponder what he'd just agreed to.

"A deal with the devil," he muttered under his breath, before getting up from his seat to look for some old equipment of his that he hope was still good for use.

* * *

><p>Black*Star: Well, as one of the other guys would say. Hope you enjoyed it. *Hear shout from somewhere.* Seem like Daisy is back. Hey, Daisy! Over...<p>

Daisy: *Come run over with a holding a dead rabbit by it hind legs.* I catch a rabbit!

Black*Star: *Stared at the corpse.* You trapped that?

Daisy: Eeyup, and going to make some stew with it. Want to help me make it?

Black*Star: Um, sure.

Daisy: *Grins* Hope you hunger than. I was able to get three today. And while we are making our meals. Readers please review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome. Have a good day.


	6. Chapter 6

Daisy: *Humming quietly to herself as she waited for the chapter to begin. When it did, Asura came into the room.* Oh, hi mummy man. Do you need something?

Asura: *Walked up to Daisy and with one hand grab her on the shoulder.* So you are the girl that everyone talking about.

Daisy: *A little uncomfortable at the touch.* Yes.. *Tried to take his hand off her shoulder.* Can you let go of me?

Asura: *Tightening his grip.* Are you afraid that I'll hurt you? Don't worry, I'm not here to harm you. I just want to answer some question. *Got up in her face and whisper as she struggle and whimper.* Now, why don't we go somewhere more... *Grass creep on in from outside and lash out at the kishin. It coiled around his throat and pulled him into a choke hold. His arms went to his throat as he was pulled into the ground.*

Mulleb: *Coming into the room.* Hey, just checking up on how everyone do... *Saw Asura on the floor, his face slowly turning blue.* You made Daisy uncomfortable didn't you. *Turn to Daisy.* What he do?

Daisy: He touch and appearance me in a way that I didn't like.

Mulleb: Of course, *Glance down at the kishin.* Tell your friends to loosen it grip, but keep him there for now. As for the readers, don't be surprise this chapter grammar is that great. My editor is taking forever to finish the chapter and I got impatient and I revise this the best I can so this will have to do for now. Hope you enjoy the read.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6<p>

Within a police station somewhere in the middle of Mexico City, several people walked through the filthy halls that led to the temporarily holding cells. "So," said Treou- hands behind his head while he stared at the holey ceiling- as he followed the big Latino, "do I have to pay bail or something?" Truthfully, he wasn't all too sure why he was brought here in the first place.

It could have to do with what happen last night. One moment he was waiting for the other two teams at the rendezvous and the next he felt the earthquake that was accompany by the most ear piercing scream he ever heard. Where he was, he saw his mentor's signature move early on as he stood around waiting for him. He estimated that his move was right around the area where that thing came from. He ran as fast as he could toward the place. When he got there he found an entire block in ruins with no sign of the zombie. As worried as he was for his mentor he knew that he could take care of himself. So he went back to the Zocalo to wait a little while longer before he went off to kill as many kishin before sunrise.

When the sun did raise he and his partner were more than happy to head back to the hotel for a well earn rest. Unlike yesterday, he wasn't wounded once and the couple of wounds he have currently were staying close. He had taken out a dozen or so kishin during the night, which help them get closer to making Clair into a death scythe. Though, even if it was an honor to become one of Death own personal weapon she was just fine with the partner she had. Besides that, could you really image the old entity using a whip as a weapon?

Back at the hotel the two found a couple of policemen who- after some time trying to get through the language barrier- told them to come with them. For what propose they don't know, but seeing that they were here. They'll found out soon enough.

Walking by his side, Clair nudged her partner to get his attention and proceed to talk with him. "How would I know why we're here?" Shaking her head in disbelief, she continued on with the signs. "Hm," he said with a thoughtful expression, "good point. Since we can't get him to speak- or understand him- we can presume a few things. One, we here to take care of a kishin that somehow got in the slammer, or two, one of our guys got themselves arrested. I'm placing my bet on Sid." After a few more signs he replied, "Doubt it would be Soul, but that guy could really be an idiot at times."

In a flash a fist connected with his head which left the boy a bit daze, standing still for a moment. It didn't hurt, but the girl rarely hit him unless… Snickering, he caught up with the other two and said, "You got a crash on Soul. I wondered how you rebounded so fast after the break up with your last boyfriend." She waved her hand over a shoulder to dismiss the notion.

Her partner, however, knew her better than she would think. Clasping his hands together next to his head, he put on a love struck expression. "So tell me, what about the boy got your attention. Was it his gleaming crimson eyes that seemed to peer into the depth of your soul or was it his shark like teeth. Maybe it the way he talks that made you swooned over him." Even though she kept a calm demeanor he knew he was getting under her skin.

"Though, I'm surprise you moved on so quickly. I mean, that the last one was suppose to be the one, right. Didn't seem to work out that way did it. So what does this make... boyfriend number four down the drain? Keep this up and you'll be matching Miss Marie's record of being dump."

That last statement did it. Turning around to face her meister she waved her arms in the air and tried to shout at him. All that came out was a squeak. For a moment she forgotten the disadvantage of being a mute and now had a light blush on her cheeks as her partner burst into laughter. Pulling her arms down to do a few more signs she glared at the boy as he settled down.

"Okay," he said, once he calmed down, "you're right. That was mean of me to say" With a much more serious expression, he added, "But you know I'm just looking out for your well being. No offense or anything, but short of doing the guys you fawned over them as if they were some greater being than Romeo. If Soul saw something in you he like just promise me you won't let him twirl you around his finger." For a moment she gazed at him before giving a nod.

"Now that our little drama is over," he said pointing to the officer who was waiting on them. "I think he is growing impatience with us."

After a short walk they came upon a locked door which the officer unlocked. Inside the small rectangular room there were several cells. In one of them were two brutes that looked as if they haven't bathed in days. In the other two were the rest of the meisters and weapons which he accompanied with to Mexico.

Due to politeness and being of different gender, Ngyus got her own cell while the guys shared one. Currently, the mummy was sitting on a bed with a mattress worn down by the years. Sid was lying down on a mattress of similar state while Crona and his weapon partner were standing, talking to one another. They were all glad when they see the whip meister and his partner.

Not able to give up a chance to joke with the elder meister, Treou said, "Now, when you told us to keep out of trouble. I wouldn't have thought you go against your own advice." Receiving glares for that statement, he gave a bashful smile. "Too soon?"

"As soon as we get out we can joke about," said Sid as he moved in front of the bars. "Go contact Lord Death and get him to explain to these gentlemen who we are."

Arching an eyebrow, the whip meister asked, "Why don't you just do it yourself? Or why not just tunnel your way out of here?"

With a sigh, he said, "The first we would have done if the police weren't afraid we somehow use it to escape. As for the second I rather not make meisters look bad by having a criminal running about."

"Okay, just give me a few moments." Turning to the officer, he asked, "Do you have a mirror I can use?" All he got was a blank expression. "Oh, right, can't speak English. Does anyone know the Spanish word for mirror?"

"Espejo," said Nygus.

"Thanks." After a few minutes of repeating the word to the officer he managed to get him to understand of what he wanted. So they left the room- the officer made sure the door was relocked- and went to a one room bathroom. The place was filthy and the toilet was surprisingly the only thing that was relatively clean.

Founding the mirror handing on the wall, he used his arm to wipe away some of the grime. He exhaled on the glass to fog it up and then wrote on it 42-42-562. Blue ripples came off the lettering until a bright yellow light obscure the entire mirror. After the light faded, standing in the middle of a dark room with a spotlight on him was a tall, rather cartoonish figure gazing at the people who called him.

"Good morning, Lord Death," said Treou as he and Clair give a low bow.

"Hi ya," said Death as he put up a large foam like hand. At first his expression was cheerful, but when he noticed the officer it turned into that of concern. "Treou, please tell me you didn't do anything to place yourself here."

Shaking his head, the meister said, "Not me. Sid and the others somehow landed themselves here. Don't know how since no one will tell me. Oh, and Sid want you to explain to this guy we're with you."

"Oh," said the entity as he turned his attention on the officer. "Mi gente está en problemas?"

"Si," replied the man. For a good chunk of the day, Lord Death and a variety of people talked things out. During this time Treou and his partner hang out with the others who couldn't wait to get out of their cells.

* * *

><p>Humid and hot, that was the words that came to mind as a team of meister and weapon jumped from tree branch to tree branch. Second thing would probably be the massive noise that the creatures of this rainforest created. Birds' calls, insects buzzing, apes howling, and many more that couldn't be picked out of the uncooperative chorus. Whatever the first thought that came about this place the biggest for most- when not irradiated by small or major threats- is that it was full of life.<p>

May it be up high in the dense canopies where birds and climbers rule or on the muddy grounds where insects thrive in their miniature world or the mammals in their own showed the creativity of whatever force created this ecosystem. Though, to our team it had become quite a problem to travel through. Traveling through the Democratic Republic of the Congo was no small matter as the two were founding out.

"Damn mosquito," said Black*Star as he swatted away another couple dozens of the large, pesky bugs. Jumping from branch to branch, they had been crossing the terrains of the country starting from the capital, Kinshasa. The trip from the start had been a pain in the ass. Transportation was pretty much limited to boats on the waterways. And the place they were going to could only be reach by foot.

There was also the problem of numerous militias and armed bandits who would ambush them. Sometime those guys just wanted to kill, rob, or torture them while others times... rape of a certain girl was all that needed to be said. Needless to say, the assassin wasn't going down that easily and within the first few minutes he would usually took care of the attacking marauders.

And how many times did the two have to save a woman from being rape? They had helped others who were being beaten and rob. However, raping seem to be the most common crime they came across which sicken both of them. The way they were carry out was mostly by gangs, but there were individually who had control over the victim. The assaulter usually had some form of weapon on or near him so to fight back wasn't a choice. And the most sicken thing about this all, once that came across a person who was in process of doing a seven year old.

That image was forever etched in his mind, probably to torture him whenever he thought of this country. Right now, malaria was probably the thing that was most likely going to do him in, but probably the last thing on his lists on why he will never come back here again. "Damn bugs are going to eat me alive," he muttered.

"I told you to put on the bug repletion," said Tsubaki who seemed to be pest free.

"Remind me again why I decide to take up this assignment."

"You take it on to hunt down the kishin who been snitching up kids and turning them into soldiers." Glancing to her right she heard a deep growl as she passed a branch shelter by leaves and vines. "The wildlife here sure is friendly," she noted.

"So are all the idiots we took care of," stated the assassin who at the moment doesn't feel much like talking. Can't really blame him and at the moment all she wanted to do was get this over with as well.

After several more hours of traveling they came upon their destination. A small village of battered huts and other ill-constructed buildings were standing in the middle of a large man made clearing. On the outskirt of the village, pigs and goats were fence in their own corrals, lazily eating away at their food. A women, who skin tone was a dark black, was fetching water from a well in the middle of the village. Few other people were out and about most of them tending to small patches of fenced in plants. Hanging from lines, clothing was set out to dry while the only other things seen outside of the homes were large cylinder baskets.

The animals took no heed of the two strangers as they walked down a path made by many stomping feet. As they neared the village the few Negros who were out doing chores called the rest of the villagers' attention on them. When they got near the first building there were about a couple dozen people in tattered clothing clustered at the end of the path.

Most of the villagers looked to have eaten little and almost all of them seemed to be about early twenties. The eldest of them all, an average size man dressed in a plain white shirt and brown shorts had a few gray hairs in his black hair and beard. He walked with a limp using a walking staff to keep from falling over. Skin was wrinkled and hardened from hard labor and quite possibly a harder life.

Stepping forward, he said in broken English, "You're not Kilik." Before the assassin can say anything he added, "Please don't look me in the eyes."

Shrugging at the odd request, he stared at the sky. "Kilik was busy with another assignment." Putting on a cheesy grin he pointed at himself and shouted, "But don't worry, the person who will surpass God is here to protect you!" Getting nothing more than blank faces he couldn't help but feel a little foolish.

Leaning forward to whisper into his ear, Tsubaki said, "I know this might be much to ask out of you, but I think it would be best to not to proclaim your greatness."

The assassin was a little insulted by this, but was willing to do so. "Yeah, guess these guys wouldn't be able to handle it." Scanning the area he asked, "Is this everyone from the village?"

"No," said the elder, "a few have left to visit relatives while others seek fortunate in the city. But at the time being this is everyone." Turning to his people he said something in their tongue, sending them off to leave them alone. "Come," he said as he started to walk away, "let talk within my home."

The elder hut was located several yards away from the rest of the village to the north. Like the rest of the village it was a humble wooden hut filled with small holes in its straw roof. Inside the place, it consisted of two small rooms. The main one was where all the daily activity of life was perform. A small circle of stone marked off a fire pit in the middle of the room. Several baskets were spread about and the only luxury they had was a pair of tribal drums up against the wall. In the other room he and his wives- he got three- would sleep on mats and due to the generosity of some foreigners. There were nets over them which kept disease carrying mosquito off them.

Gathering around the pit, the elder said, "Sit. It is nearly noon and you must be hungry after your long travel." Raising his voice, he said something which they couldn't understand. Soon enough a woman came into the room with several plates in hand. Giving the dishes to the three she retreated back into the room. "Please excuse me if this isn't as much as you use to, but we get by on little."

In front of them was a white paste accompany by a bowl of red broth with a piece of meat in it. "Fufu and peanut soap," said he as he rolled the paste into a ball and dunked it in the soup. Following his example they ate their cold meal in quiet for a few minutes before Tsubaki spoke up.

"We're graceful for the meal, but you shouldn't have done this..."

Putting up a hand to stop her, he said, "It's the less we can do for it hardly enough to pay you for your troubles."

"Talking about troubles," said Black*Star after he down the soup in one gulp. "What exactly are we up against? In the assignment it said that you request help with a kishin who call himself Joseph Kony."

Nodding, he said, "That's the one." With a sigh, he looked to the ground. "The devil possesses the man's soul. For some time he been kidnapping children for his Lord's Resistance Army- may the Lord bring punishment down on him- trying to bring Uganda under his control. Most of the time when he "recruit" his soldiers, he force them to kill their family and friends. With nowhere to go they follow the man on his quest and somewhere along the way loss themselves to the devil."

"Kony usually stick to his native land, but being the "good" Christian he is. He go around neighboring countries to help replenish loses his army take. We believe he and some of his "recruiters" are about to pay us a visit."

"And you like us to take these guys' souls?" said Black*Star who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Though," said Tsubaki to clear up a point, "how do you know he is heading this way?"

"News travel as fast as the person's mouth can carry it in those parts. We're just lucky that a relative from another village was away when his village was attack. With Godspeed he went from village to village, warning them of the devil's coming. Some of them listen, while other didn't."

Not feeling the need to go into the details of what happen to those who didn't, he added, "Thankfully, our cries for help reach your ears in time. We were afraid we must leave tomorrow if you haven't arrived by nightfall."

"Well," shouted Black*Star as he jumped to his feet. "You don't have to worry about a thing. Once I'm through with this Kony guy he be nothing more but another soul in Tsubaki's stomach." With a nod, the weapon agreed with her partner and after hearing about what this Kony really is. She was determined to stop him.

Smiling, the old man said, "Than if you're helping, you will need a place to stay for the night. I'll offer up my home for the task. One of my wives should be able to set up a sleeping area. We don't expect Kony and his men to be here until sometime tomorrow afternoon. So if you like to help out around the village it would be nice."

"Can do," said the assassin, preferring to work than do nothing. "So what needed to be done?" For the rest of the day the two were left doing necessary chores. Cutting down trees for firewood, ground wheat to make bread, tend to the animals, and wash clothing are a few of the chores they did. Even though it was a little tedious the day did pass by faster. When it was time for bed they wonder back into the elder's hut to found two separate mats with nets hang around it place near the burning coals of the fire pit. Keeping their clothes on, they got on their respected mat and fall asleep.

"Sir, the village is only a night walk away," said one of the six men within the group. Well, truthfully, only one of them was an adult who was the leader of the five. The rest of them in all rights were kids. They range from being somewhere around fifteenth while the youngest was about six. Expect for the leader- choosing to carry only a pistol and holy water as his weapons- they all were armed with AK-47 which was slung over their back by a strap and knifes, sheathed on their right breast. All of them were wearing green, gray, and brown camouflage clothing; though, the degree of wear varied.

Nodding, the average size dark brown man stood there, his hazel eyes stared into the dark night. The one who spoke early, the fifteenth year old, cautiously asked, "Is something the matter sir?"

Taking off his military cap- same color as his uniform- he bowed his head and said, "Just thinking son."

"E-excuse me, sir," said the youngest of them all who was one of their newest "recruit." "I'm just wondering... Is it wise for you to be out here in the first place?" The others did not speak it, but they had the same thought on their mind. Why should the leader of the LRA, spokesperson for God, and self proclaimed spirit medium be out on a recruiting mission? It doesn't seem to be worthy enough to risk his life over.

With a friendly smile, he said, "At times even one like me must do the lowest of works. And if you fear some tragedy will fall upon me than be reassure that the Lord's blessing shines on us." All of them except the youngest were convince by this. Unlike the others he only had been with this group for a short while so the total cult obedience attitude hadn't taken residence yet. Sure, God can protect someone, but as he had recently learn from the experience of killing his parents-one he tried so depressingly to forget- a bullet cared little of what God thought.

"Now come," said the man as he advanced forward. "Let gain more men for His army." As the rest of the group followed him the youngest couldn't help but wonder. Why does he keep on calling them men? He was only six years old.

Sound of repeating gun fire was the noise that the assassin had wakened up to. And he was not happy about that because he was just dreaming about everyone finally recognizing his greatest. Grumbling, he jumped to his feet and tried to run outside. Tried, because he had forgotten about the net that protect him from mosquitoes. Somehow, he fell to the floor and managed to entangle himself in it.

"Stupid net," shouted Black*Star as he fight to free himself. Outside he could hear people screaming and got a glimpse of a few of them when they run by the empty door frame. As he struggled all he did was get more entangled within the net. With a frustrated roar he tried to use brute strength to break it with little success.

Thankfully, Tsubaki rushed into the room, shouting, "Black*Star wake up. Kony..." Seeing her meister trapped, she momentarily thought of helping him untangle him without destroying the net. But hearing the gunfire growing closer, she got onto her knees and pulled out a star shape shuriken. Cutting away at the net, she said, "I knew I should have waked you up when I wake up."

"Why?" said the assassin, staying absolute still to make sure he doesn't get cut. "What time is it?"

"About one in the afternoon. The elder was actually surprise you stayed asleep that long." Cutting one last string, she open up the hole she created which her partner easily got out of. "I think several people had already been killed and several severely wounded. We need to hurry." Once the assassin was on his feet the girl glow a bright purple and her formed shrink.

Black*Star quickly gripped the handles of the weapon, which once in his held, the light break away to show kusarigama- chain scythes. "Don't worry about it, Tsubaki. Even a big star like me makes mistakes once in a while."

Unfortunately, in a situation like this, the mistake had already had lead to the death of several people. Apparently, several women were fetching water from the well when they were shot down. Now they lay in a pool of blood as the rest of the villagers ran and hide. What else could they do? All they had were sticks and stones which would be sort of ineffective against assault rifles.

Somewhere south of the village, a man with a loud voice shouted something that resembled French. The assassin had study several languages- come with traveling the world- and due to the dialect it was hard to understand. But he'll manage. "I think we need speed," he stated as the first of his enemies came into view. Within seconds of glowing purple, the chain scythe had morphed into a short sword.

When the boy came into view-someone who was barely in his teens- the assassin made the mistake to hesitate. Within that few precious seconds that can mean life or death the surprise of just a young kid waging war had dumbstruck him. Thankfully for him, the kid was also a little shock at seeing him. Even though he had heard of the white people this was the first time he actually seen one. So a strange spirit wearing a goofy outfit had him in shock.

"He holding a gun," shouted the weapon. Her voice shook Black*Star out of his thoughts and he saw the assaulted rifle. The boy shouted something with a tone of fear and he raised his weapon to take down the threat. Before he could bring it up to level, the assassin at an amazing speed dash forth and in one swift motion rammed his knee right under his rib cage. A spray of crimson escape his lips, but some of it splattered onto the assassin's elbow as he shoved it into his right cheek.

He bounced twice off the ground before coming to a stop. Groaning from the pain, he tried to get up, but a foot pinned him to the ground. The rifle was snatch from his hand and send flying into the air. Pressure from the foot on him caused him to lose his breath as the assassin used it as a launch pad. He watched as the white boy bolted up into the air easily catching up with the gun.

Slicing at the gun, Black*Star came back down; his heel landed an inch from his head. The two halves of his rifle landed with a thud to his sides. Stunned by this turned of events he could only stared into the sky until the assassin's faced blocked it out. "Hey," said the assassin, "I know you probably can't understand me, but do you know where Kony is?" In response the Negro blinked. Sighing, he added, "Guess not."

More gunfire brought the assassin's attention to his right just in time to see two more children dressed up like soldiers charging his way. Of course, they weren't playing soldier and they weren't holding toy guns. In short burst, they fired away expecting a crimson bloom to form on his chest. But the assassin react time was far quicker than theirs.

Before they even knew what happen one of gun's barrels was cut in two while the other one was sliding across the ground. Both were armed with knives but only one of them managed to slip it out. The kid's head bashed against the ground due to something ramming into his front. Though, the other kid who managed to get his knife out wasn't able to use it. His feet were cut right from under him. A second later a heel slammed into his breastbone and followed him to the ground. More crimson left his body, but Black*Star knew the blow was crippling rather than fatal.

"Stay down," he growled at the boy before twisting on the ball of his heel to block a knife to his chest. Smirking, he evaded each strike with ease from the thirteenth year old. As he made a thrust to his heart, the assassin sidestepped and grabbed his arm. Holding it in place, he brought his elbow down onto the forearm. There was a snapped and a scream of pain which lasted only a moment. It was silence by a knee being jammed into his gut.

The two kept the position- Black*Star on one leg while his knee in the kid's gut who was bent over it- for a few seconds. Pulling his knee away, the assassin turned so he could allow the boy to face plant into the dirt.

Scenting them, he glanced over his shoulder to see two more kids coming this way. _Guess the old man a no show_, he thought as he turned to face them. The two new fighters were obviously shock to see one boy had taken out several of their comrades. And even if he was only wielding a blade he hadn't once used it. "So," he said with a cocky grin as he got into stance, "do you really think you have a better chance than these guys."

Apparently, they do. Waiting for them to get the guns to level, in a quick burst of speed he ran forth. Though he wasn't faster than the bullets, he was faster than the two who were trying to kill him. They tried to keep up, their bullets following behind the trail of the blue blur. Two extended arms slammed into their throat at full speed. Both of them let go of their weapons as they tried instinctively to grab their necks.

Yet, the assassin wouldn't let them. Withdrawing his arms, he quickly got both hands off to their sides. When he brought them together he caught the two heads and slammed them together. A little too hard perhaps, but when he let go of their heads their slump bodies fall to the ground.

Wiping his hand together he said, "That is that."

"Bravo demon," said someone who spoke in that strange dialect of France. Preceding the words the best he can, the assassin turned around to found a full grown man slowly clapping his hands. "That was quite a show but tell me. Why didn't you just kill them? They should rightfully receive their awards in heaven."

Staring the man down, he just knew this was the guy. "So you're this Kony everyone is talking about." Pointing the blade at him, he added, "What type of a man use children to fight his battles?"

With a friendly grin, Kony said, "What children of you speak of?" Scanning the area his gaze seemed to overlooked his unconscious soldiers. "Beside those that are hiding I don't see one. That is, unless you are speaking of yourself?"

Smirking, he got into stance as he said, "Me? A kid? I'm the big man who will one day surpass God. There no way a creep like you will take me down."

"Surpass God you say," questioned Kony as he reached for the pistol on his hip. A dangerous tone, one full with madness, had creep into his voice. "You, a child, will overcome the Lord? That is a joke. How can one as glorious as he could be taken down by someone as small as you?" Pushing on a button, the clip slid out of place and was quickly store in his right pants pocket. From that same pocket he brought another clip and smoothly put it in its place. "It is good that I have the chance to show the world His glory. By ridding you demon"- grinning madly- "I'll show all that I'm his messenger."

"He's nuts," Tsubaki stated.

"Yeah," said Black*Star in agreement. "It's time to take this guy's soul." Dashing forward, his arms tuck to his sides, he cleared the distance between them and lashed out. Aiming for his chest, he though he got him until the man leap back.

With a mocking grin, he said, "Not going to be that easy demon." And before the assassin's eyes the man faded. His entire body seemed to loss it solid property; first fading to the point of being seen through and then oblivion.

"What the!" exclaimed Black*Star as he landed. Looking around him, his sword ready to strike, he couldn't quite get what he just seen. "Tsubaki, please tell me I'm not the only one who just saw that."

"I saw it," said the weapon which was on high alert. "I don't know exactly what we saw, but I saw it."

A light chuckle echoed throughout the village. "I haven't stay alive this long for no reason demon," said Kony, his voice seeming to come from everywhere. "Let see how long you'll last." Sensing something to his right, the boy twirl around and brought the flat of his blade over his face. Something- a bullet he soon realized- ricochet off it and two more glazed his shoulders. He clenched his teeth and ignored the pain. For a moment he seen the man shimmer into existence, but it wasn't enough to pinpoint him.

_Got to move, _he thought as he darted forward. He knew the likability of him running into the guy was slim so he just had to wait until he shows himself. Several more bullets were fire off which he barely managed to dodge. Those projectiles pass clean through the house's wall he went by and for a moment he thought he heard someone scream in pain. _There are too many people here who can get hurt. _

More bullets went flying and they may be kill shots though none of them had very good grouping. _Thank God_ _he's using a pistol. _Coming to a stop right in front of the well he scanned around looking for anything that would stand out. _He's maybe invisible,_ he thought as he swung his head to side to side,_ but he still a solid object. That means he take up space, if he make a sound or displaced something… _

Diving for the ground, he rolled to his left. One of the shots hit the stone of the well causing small splitters of stone to scratch the assassin's side. As he dashed for the edge of the village he glanced over his shoulder. _Damn it! Even if I stayed still long enough to focus I'll be shot died. _Glancing to the forest, he couldn't help but ground his teeth. _In the forest, I'll have a better chance of at less hearing something. The noise from the guns should, hopefully, chase off or silence the animals, but first I need to lure him there. _

On the outskirt of the village, he turned around and shouted, "Hey Kony! Doubt you're brave enough to follow me."

"My bravery is not in question here," stated the man. "And I have no desire to take this fight from viewing eyes."

"Too bad," he shouted as he turned around and run. "Either you follow me or you can stay here and look like coward." Truthfully, he wasn't all that confided that the kishin would come after him when there was easier prey about. Yet, if he is really wanted to slay the 'demon' to satisfy his god he should take chase.

Going a good distance into the forest, at less now he knew the gunshots had scared the animals away. That would make things easier. Though, he needed to be careful not to confuse the noise of crunching leaves under his feet for someone else. So he jumped into the nearest tree, hide from plain sight behind a dense layer of leafs, and waited.

For about ten minutes he crouched there, from time to time to say something to his weapon before shutting up. Thinking that was enough time had pass for anyone to came after him, he was about to jump down when he heard the rustling of leafs. In dead silent he watched for anything to come by. He didn't see him, but he saw the trail of footprints in the mud and vegetation he left behind.

Once he was certain he was heading this way he waited for him to near the tree and dive downward, blade pose to kill. He would have killed him to if it wasn't for that big mouth of his. "Got ya," he shouted, slicing the blade downward. It made contact, but instead of hitting flesh it tore away at the Negro's hat.

Bending his knees, Kony was able to dodge the blade, but the front of the assassin's feet caught him by the forehead. It caused him to fall onto his back while his attacker landed on his face. Groaning softly, he laid there for a second his body fazing in and out. "Lucky," he muttered as he got up and rolled onto his elbows to shoot the assassin in the back. "But you're luck just run out."

However, Black*Star had already scrambled to his feet and was able to hide behind a tree for cover. He fired off five more shots before he realized that it was pointless. Getting to his feet he looked down to his body to see that he was translucent ghost. Shrugging, he advanced on the tree his hands holding the weapon as it should be properly handled. Both hands were on the handle, one underneath the grip while the other gripped the grip. For the best shot he could get with the short range weapon.

Slowly, he got closer expecting the assassin to have already left his spot. Sure enough before he was near his intended target there was some rustling of leafs to his right. Turning to face the noise, he fired away. Black*Star evaded each shot with ease, but was force to get back as he got a little too close to point blank. Keeping the bead on his target, Kony pulled the trigger one more time. To hear nothing more than a clicking sound.

"Thirteen shots," stated the assassin with a grin. "I was wondering when you were going to run out." He rushed forward his blade ready to stab straight through the Negro's chest. As he thrust out Kony leap back and reached for something in his pocket while the other hand puts the pistol back in it sheath. Glancing to where the hand went the assassin saw a round corked bottle full of a clear liquid. Not taking the time to marvel over it he slice the air to his right.

Backpedaling, the man pulled the cork out of place, put a small amount of the liquid in his hand, and flung it at the assassin. With a raised eyebrow, Black*Star put his arm up by force of muscle memory. "You're throwing water at me," said he in disbelief. "That is so..." Lame was the word he was about to use, but when he felt his flesh burn and heard something sizzling. "AAAHHH," he screamed jumping a good several yards back. "What the hell is that stuff?"

"Holy water," Kony said as he put cork back on. "I'm not surprise it harms you." As quickly as he could he put the bottle back in it place and pulled the pistol back out to reload. Whatever the fluid was burned his skin so the assassin decided to fall back into the trees. He jumped about for a bit under fire but he soon lost the Negro for the moment.

Looking at his arm he saw that the liquid had burn away a layer of his skin in several small places. "What was that stuff?" he said as he exclaimed the wounds.

"Some type of acid," said the weapon. "And a strong one to. It corroded a small part of my body, but I think most of it got on you."

Glancing down at the Negro, he was having a hard time trying to figure out how the liquid didn't affect the man. "Damn it," he whispered as he watched the man faded out from existence, again. "This guy is really starting to get on my nerve." And to make matters worse the man went at a slow pace as he walked about. If he focus hard enough he could hear the crunching of leafs, but it was impossible to pinpoint the location.

Than the gun went off and he was nearly shot out of the tree. Only reason he survive with nothing more than a few painful glaze wounds was because the man wasn't exactly sure where to shoot. Seeing that nothing fall from the tree the Negro made his way to the next tree over. Hoping that his back was turn, the assassin jump out of the tree its leafs rustled, giving off his position.

Slicing downward diagonal, the blade cleave through nothing but air. That was because he was short of hitting the guy or at less with the sword. He collided into something solid and fell to the ground. As he went down he wrapped one arm around the invisible man's body so he couldn't escape. Stabbing at where he thought the chest was he plunged the blade halfway down before it finally made connected with flesh.

"Rrgg," grunted the Negro, snuffling a yelp of pain. His body slowly became visible showing that the blade had passed through his lower arm. Unfortunately for him, it was the arm that had the hand which the pistol was in. So unless he can bend his wrist into an awkward position he can't use his firearm. "Get off of me." With his free arm he fumbled for the bottle in his pocket.

Paying little attention to the man, the assassin pulled upward ripping the sword from its place. This caused more blood to flow which also freed the Negro's arm. Unintentionally, he slammed the side of the pistol into the assassin's cheek and fired away. Instead of blowing his head off he deafen the assassin and stunned him a little which was enough time to pull out the bottle.

Using his teeth, he pulled the cork off and threw the fluid onto Black*Star's chest. Needless to say, this send waves of pains across the assassin's body. Jumping back to his feet, he fall back ignoring the pain long enough to get back into the trees. Gunshots followed but none of them hit.

"The devil must have lent you his luck," said the Negro as he took a look at his arm. The puncture wound had gone cleaned through it. Blood was pouring out at a fearful speed, but he didn't seem to mind. "I was aiming for your face, but it still must have hurt." Hearing nothing, he stood there waiting for the assassin to do something.

Hearing more rustling from behind, he whipped around managing to place the barrel of the gun at point blank to Black*Star's forehead. He also had the sword dangerously closed to his neck. With a grin Kony said, "Look like we're in a bit of a predicament. So what is faster? The squeeze of the trigger or the cut of the blade?"

The assassin didn't say anything. Every muscle expect of that of his right arm was rigid from fright. His chest was still burning; though, thankfully most of the acid burnt away his shirt before getting to his skin. "Don't make me laugh," said Black*Star, still cocky even if there a gun to his head. "I bet you'll be died in the next few seconds."

"Than let see than," he said, his finger closing on the trigger while the assassin pulled back his blade for leverage. Sure enough, a gun went off. Though, Kony never knew it for about a dozen bullets penetrated his back and head. The pistol was barely out of his grip before the kishin's body unraveled on itself and left behind a fiery, red soul.

Black*Star stood there, stun, the blade still pulled back to strike out at someone. Standing not too far away, using an AK-47 for support, the elder had a bright, toothy grin on his face. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I fine," said the assassin, crossing his arms and pouted. He was a little miffed that the old man just took his kill, but he couldn't really complain. Letting go of the blade, it fall to the ground and transformed back into a human.

"Thanks for the assistance," said Tsubaki as she bowed once she was on here feet. "For a moment there, I thought Black*Star was done for."

"Hey," shouted the assassin, stomping a foot forward and uncrossing his arms. "You thought I was actually going to lose to the guy?"

"Calm down boy," said the elder as he turned around to head back the village. "Give the girl her treat and escort me back to the village. It was hard enough on my old bones to come out here." With a shrug, he waited for Tsubaki to eat the soul before helping the elder.

That night was a night to moan. Before the five boys- who are current being hold in a hut with an armed guard until they could think of something to do with them- were stop they had killed off eight people while wounding four. So a funeral was held which the assassin and his partner didn't attend for they felt unwelcome. It wasn't that the villagers were ungrateful to them, but they were still outsider so it best that they didn't get involve. Though, the visitors would found they would be staying for a couple more days before heading home.

* * *

><p>Across the Atlantic Ocean, somewhere in a valley in Mexico's mountain ranges, Free was tending to a fire as the girl sleep on her chest. She had been out for most of the day which wasn't surprising, but as soon as she wake up. They need to move on and head to the US-Mexico border.<p>

Staring into the fire as he used a stick to stir the embers, the man heard the girl let out a yawn. "Good evening, sleeping beauty," he said, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

Very so slowly, the girl got one of her arms under her to lift herself up. Once she was halfway to a sitting position she used the other arm to set herself up straight. "As good as anyone can in my current conditions." Without thinking about it, one of her hands went to her head in search of a hat. To found that nothing was there. Confuse, she waved her hand over her head to still found it void of the cloth object. "Where's my hat?" she asked.

"Hat?" said Free, not all too sure of what she was talking about. Than it dawn on him. "Oh, that hat. I don't know. When I came to rescue you, you didn't have it on you."

Before she could say anything, the demon said from her back. "It fell off of your head when the ape pushed you into the coffin. My best guess it still somewhere back in that street or someone had already picked it up."

Realizing that her partner was right, she said, glumly, "Oh man. I really like that hat."

"In my opinion," said the demon, "you look a lot better without it."

"Shout up, Ragnarok."

* * *

><p>"Finally," said Treou as an officer open the doors to his team's cells. "About time we get out of here."<p>

Coming out of their cells, they were more than ready to leave, but the officer stopped them first. He said in English, with a heavy Mexican accent, "You all may go in a moment. I'm just curious if this belong to any of you." Pulling it from behind his back, he presented to them a black fedora hat.

For a moment they just stared at it before Crona said, "That is mine."

"Here you go," said the officer as he handed it to him. "Be careful not to lose it. If one of my men hasn't spotted it, it would have been long gone." With that said he left them to go on patrol.

When he disappeared, Treou said, "Dude, that isn't your hat."

"That belong to the girl," stated Nygus as she stared at it.

"Yeah," said Soul, examining it in his meister's hands. "Why would you want that in the first place?"

Shrugging, the pink-haired boy replied, "Souvenir." Placing the hat on top of his head, he found it to fit snugly. Without another word he walked toward the door. On the other side he turned around and asked, "Are you guys coming?"

Expect for Treou and Soul the others followed them out. Clair did look back to her partner with a questionable expression. "We'll be with you in a moment," he said with a wave of his hand. So the girl left them leaving the two a chance to talk a little, along. "A souvenir?" he asked as he turned to face the albino. "Who does he think he's kidding? And what is so important about that hat anyway?"

"It belonged to the demon swordsman," said Soul. "Remember when we told you how she beat us?"

"Yeah, though, almost anyone in the DMWA had a story of getting over their heads at less once."

"Yet, this time it different," said the albino as he looked to the door. "How and why I don't know. He doesn't like people getting into his personal thoughts. Then again,"- he walked toward the door- "maybe it just the fact he likes the hat and want to keep it." Seeing the weapon leave, the meister followed suit and soon enough they were with the others again. They went to the hotel to pack up their things before going home and talked about the pink-hair boy new article of clothing. However, none of them could figure out why Crona would want the hat as a souvenir.

* * *

><p>Mulleb: Well, as I said, hope you enjoy the read. I'll post the revise version as soon I can get it.<p>

Asura: *Arm reaching up.* Hello, I'm still on the ground having a hard time breathing.

Daisy: Should I let him go?

Mulleb: *Shrugging.* Have your friends throw him out?

Asura: Wait, what? *Before he could say anything else the grass dragged him toward the door and toss him out the house.*

Mulleb: See you hopefully a lot later. As for the readers, please review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome. As always, hope you all have a good day.


	7. Chapter 7

Daisy: *Reading note and chuckling.* Okay, I'll make it known to the readers. Hello there, Mulleb just want you all to know that he probably down another editor. Don't know why and it isn't official, but he wouldn't be surprise.

Black*Star: *Comes into a room carrying a cactus in a pot.* Hey there Daisy. Look what I got. I found it... *Trips over a cat and lose grip on the pot.*

Daisy: *Screams as the needles pierce her flesh.*

Black*Star: Oh, I'm going to be in a lot of pain soon aren't I. *Saw the cactus and other plants come toward him. Turns to Tsubaki* A little help here?

Tsubaki: Sorry, but I think I should tend to Daisy first. *Was about something else, but decide to run when the plants attacked him. Sighing.* He should have gone with a flower. Well, Mulleb did his best to edit this as always and he hopes you enjoy the read. While you guys do that I'll go take care of Daisy.

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven<p>

"Why couldn't we get a day off from school," groaned the albino as he and his partner walked down the one of DWMA hallways. "After an assignment like that I think we deserve a break." Soul is just upset because he couldn't get a day off like Treou did. Their team arrived back in Death City yesterday morning which was a school day but got lucky for the school nurse wanted to have them examine.

The nurse was a kind middle aged woman who had been with the school for several years now. She actually worked in the Death City Hospital most of the time, but when Nygus- the full time nurse- was away she would kindly take her place. Like every year, after the Day of the Dead celebration was over, there are people who had been wounded and the occasionally deaths. Most of the time, the injuries were treated in Mexico, but sometime there are the few proud fools who would hide life threatening injuries.

So the entire group got checkup and all but Treou passed with flying colors. Apparently, there had been signs of internal bleeding which wasn't life threatening, but was advised to take a few days off so he doesn't overdo it. Everyone else on the other hand was given the okay of returning to school. Though, at the moment one of them does look ready to fall over any minute now. Letting out another loud exhausted sigh, Soul ignored the strange looks students shot his way.

The albino was trudging through the halls with a slouch, hands in his pockets, and eyelids halfway shut. Crona, however, looked bright and ready for the new day. Even if he was a bit weary, he walked with a spring in his step as he rolled his eyes. "I told you, you shouldn't have stay up last night." Some of the party spirit was still in the weapon's veins so he decide to get rid of it with some late night outing. As anyone can see, it worked but not with desirable effects.

Grunting out a reply, he continued forward until they were stopped by a particular but a little too common sight. On the ground with his back bent and fist weakly pounding into the floor, a black haired kid with three white, solid lines that went half way around his head, was quietly shouting about something being unsymmetrical trash. Dressed in formal black shirt, pants, and shoes, Crona could see the large white strips on his shoulders and knew there were three more down the middle of his shirt. The white collar of his under shirt could be seen and it wouldn't be surprising if he was wearing the shinigami bow tie. On both middle fingers there were shinigami rings which kept up his entire symmetrical outfit. At the moment, it was hard to believe this boy is the son of Lord Death, Death the Kid.

Beside him were his weapon partners, the Thompson sisters. The tallest and eldest of the two was standing up and shaking her head in disbelief. A white and black cowboy hat laid on top of Liz's long brown hair that went halfway down her back. Blue eyes looked down at her meister as she placed a hand on her hip; two metal bracelets were on both wrists. She wore a sleeveless red shirt that exposed her belly with a small white tie. She also wore blue jeans held up by a black belt while her feet were in black high heels boots.

Kneeling beside Kid, patting his back was the shorter and younger of the two. Expect for shorts and the lack of bracelets Patty outfit matches her sister. Short blonde hair was under that hat, but the there was still the blue eye. One last noticeable different-physically- of the two sister were that her bosom were a good size bigger than that of her older sister.

"There, there Kid," said Patty as she tried to bring the boy out of his funk. "It isn't that bad."

Scanning the area, the pink-haired meister and his partner was trying to figure out why Kid was like this. Where they were, they noticed he and his partners were in front of the assignment board. It was a simple thing where assignments were placed on small chalkboards which hung from nails. Those that are complete or currently taken would have a piece of cloth around them.

"What wrong with him this time?" asked Crona, who by now was used to the boy's problem. Kid had OCD or obsessive-compulsive disorder. In the simplest terms his mind was plagued with the obsession of everything being symmetrical. It caused him to get upset when anything is not symmetrical and he has the urge of correcting that mistake. Kid knew that his stress was irrational but he can't help it. Usually, he only got two opinions to choice from. Either ignored the stressor or make the unsymmetrical thing symmetrical. When neither could be done he breaks down into this pitiful state.

Now, the scythe meister in all honesty wouldn't consider the boy or the sisters one of his friends. They do hang out with each other, but they interacted more with Black*Star and Soul rather than him. Acquaintances and colleagues would be the best word for their relationship, but he does worry when Kid breakdown like this. In his opinion, one of those days that obsession of his is going to get him killed if he doesn't found a way to control it.

With a sigh, Liz pointed to the board. Both meister and weapon looked at it to see that it was almost perfectly symmetrical. The only blemish was two boards beside each other; one had a tag while the other didn't. "Somebody," said Liz, her voice full of irk and her eyes darting to her little sister, "stated that the damn boards had a funny pattern to them. Kid also notice this and tried to rearrange them into something more symmetrical. However, there were an odd numbers of boards so after about fifteen minutes of rearranging them he is now in his current position."

Glancing between the boards and the stress out meister, Crona said, "Why doesn't he just complete a mission so it can be made symmetrical?"

"What was that," stated Kid as he bolted up from his position to hear him better. To avoid being knock over Patty also straighten up to nearly miss being hit by her meister's head. Yellow eyes of two different shades- a lighter yellow on the edge while amber near the pupil- stared intensely at him.

"I said why you don't do an assignment." His eyes quickly darted to the boards and scanned for any mission that Kid would take on. Mentally smirking, he plucked one off the wall for a closer examination. "Here's one; the Artistic Kishin. She stalked the streets of Paris looking for the perfect subject for her paintings. At first she is known to be friendly and courteous, but when it times to use the 'volunteer' for her paintings. She would than kill them and morphed their body into the shape she wants before making the picture. Even though the way she find her inspiration is gruesome the painting themselves are said to be true pieces of art."

Reaching the end of the description, he added in for insurance. "There isn't any proof, but it is possible she have taken on an apprentice who helps from time to time. Sound like something you'll be interested in."

Tossing the board down to Kid, the black-haired meister caught it and quickly scanned through it. As he reached the end of the report, his face had brightened up quite a bit. "Liz, Patty," he said calmly as he got back on his feet, "hope you girls like escargot, because we will be having some for lunch."

As the three walked toward Stein's classroom to inform the teacher that they will be gone for the day, Patty exclaimed, "Yeah, we're going to France! Oh, and what is escargot?"

"It's French for snails," stated Liz, following behind her meister as she glanced over her shoulder to mouth a thank you to Crona.

"Snails," shouted Patty with disgust and bewilderment. "Who would want to eat snails? I rather have French toast or French fries."

"Um, Patty," said the eldest sister and the meister, "you do know France is not known for that, right?"

"Then why do they call them French…" Neither the scythe meister nor his weapon heard the end of the sentence but it didn't take the stretch of the imagination to figure it out.

When they were clearly out of hearing range Soul said, "You do know that it very unlikely that the assignment board will stay like this when they get back?"

"So," said Crona with a shrug, "Kid does not need to know that. Just one of those things you don't want to mention to him. Like you shouldn't tell him that the human body isn't perfectly symmetrical." Both of them shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he did. It was hardly noticeable in the first place, but if the OCD boy did know… Just make sure he was far away from any sharp tools.

"I can agree with that," said Soul as he turned his attention onto the board.

"Come on Soul," said the meister as he headed in the same direction Kid and his weapons just went. "We need to cheek up with Professor Stein and see if we miss any work."

"Or we can skip school for one day and fake being sick," said the weapon with a hopeful smile. Seeing that his meister haven't even stop to consider it, he breath out, "Or not." So he quickly caught up to the pinked-hair boy for what will most likely be another day of napping in class.

* * *

><p>"Here we are girls," shouted Kid to be heard over the rushing wind. "Paris, France the city of lights." Up in the sky he was on his skateboard- bluish-green in color, have two shinigami skulls painted on its belly, and had red wheels which were blowing out air- he could easily see how the city had gotten the nickname. The entire place was light up, from the smallest of building to the Eiffel Tower, lights blazed brightly into the night sky. Of course, only the moon could be seen for the lights blotted out the stars, but it was still a pretty sight.<p>

"So much for lunch," stated Liz who was in weapon form. A desert eagle .38, she and her sister, who was also the same weapon, looked much like the normal pistol expect they have three triangles etch on each side near the muzzle and that they had a shinigami skull in the middle of their grips. At the time being, they were in Kid's back pockets and were a little cramp after staying in weapon form for so long. "What time is it any way?"

"Here, I think it is about eleven at night," said Kid as he looked down at the city. "Doubt we be able to do any scouting about today. Might as well land and wait till tomorrow morning to begin." Choosing nowhere in particular, Kid eased the board down into the near empty streets. The lights are on, but most people were either in bed or somewhere within the buildings.

Landing by a small café with only two people sitting about- one of them was reading a newspaper while the other was checking her makeup. Kid gently landed the skateboard down on the sidewalk so he didn't get run over by a car. Once on the ground, he got off of it and stretch out his hand. Within seconds black skulls shot out of it to take up the board and it vanished in a cloud of smoke.

"Okay Patty, time for us to stretch," said Liz as she and her sister turned a bright pink and jumped out of their meister's pockets. In human form they landed on their feet as they stretch their arms and legs. "I hate it when we have to do that. So where are we exactly?"

"Don't know," said Kid as he looked around, "but I'm sure we'll figure it out soon enough."

"You're on Gare Street Lazare," said a feminine voice that was soaked in depression. The trio froze when they heard that voice, a voice one can't readily forget, but wish they can. In disbelief of their luck, they turned too stared at the two occupations of a metal crafted chairs and table. The person who spoke was reading a newspaper while the other had her face hidden behind a hand held makeup mirror.

"Alice," said Kid, sounding refine on the outside while feeling like he should run like hell on the inside. "Is that you?"

Placing the newspaper on the table, they got a good look of the girl. "Yes," she said with a sadistic smile, "it's me." Alice, aka the Emo Butcher, was not a person who is easily forgotten. Long dyed black hair tied in braids with sliver strings covered half her light skin face. Black lining was around her startling green eyes. Lips as black as her hair showed teeth that look completely normal expect for her fang like canines.

She wore a baggy black leather jacket with a silver undershirt shining under it. Black pants covered the tops of black boots which for some reason had a heel. On her right index, middle, and ring finger there were three silver lettered rings that looked normal unless you knew what they meant. In Chinese writing, in order, they say death, blood, and sacrifice.

"Good evening to you, Kid, Liz, and Patty," she said, that sadistic grin never leaving her lips. "What bring you to my prowling grounds tonight?"

"Alice, can you drop the Gothic act for five seconds?" asked the girl beside her as she put away her mirror. Blonde hair framed the girl small plump face as brown eyes scold her meister. She had a bit of makeup on her tanned skin but except for the red lips it wasn't noticeable. Wearing a satin red shirt with tight blue jeans that show off curves, one could tell she was plump. By no means was she fat, just a little more patting than the average girl.

The smile stayed, but it was much friendlier than the previous one. "Whatever you say Jane." Turning her attention back onto Kid and the sisters, who were trying their best to edge away without making it obvious, she gestured them to take a seat. Between being impolite or falling into a depress state. Kid choose to sit which his partners grudgingly followed suit. "To be more normal," said the girl empathizing 'normal'. "Why are you guys here?"

"Most likely doing what you are doing," replied Kid. Glancing to Patty, he saw that she was starting to fold the newspaper into God know what while Liz was making small chat with Jane. "We're out to get the Artistic Kishin."

"Sound interesting," she said as she glanced up at the sky. "Right now we're waiting for Po to return. He's out looking for some Midnight Hobo Striker. It's a sad world when people start attacking the poor for being poor." She looked into his eyes to see if anything was there. Expect for discomfort there was nothing of interest. "If you like some help, I can lend my good boy to you for a little while after we liberate our target's soul."

"Thanks but no thanks," said Kid as he looked about for an excuse to get out of there. "I'm sure we can found our lady on our own."

Shrugging, she said, "Whatever floats your eternal, lonely, burden boat."

Before he could reply a shrill cry came down high from the dark heavens. Everyone looked up, seeing nothing at first but soon they spotted a large, black bird. Circling their table, it finally came down and landed on the emo's right shoulder. It dug its claws into her jacket, but the girl did not seem to mind. Actually, she seemed glad to see the bird. With here index finger she gently petted the raven down his neck. "Hey there boy," she softly said. "How you find what we are looking for?"

For a moment the bird twisted it head about to examine the newcomers. When he determine they weren't a threat he lifted one of it claws and extended it out. The girl placed an open hand under him so the bird could deposit what it found. All it was a few strand of hair and a dirty brown fabric. To anyone but the girl and her partner, it looked like trash but they knew better than that.

"Good boy," she said as she placed the traces of their target into her right pocket. With her other hand she took out of her left pocket some blueberries. Bringing the treat up to the bird, he accepted it without hesitation. As his beak peck at the berries, the girl said, "Lead me to him and I'll save you an eyeball."

After Po finished eating, he extended his powerful wings and took flight. He went a little way away before landing on a street light to peer back at his caretaker. "Well," said Alice as she and her partner got on their feet, "it been nice talking, but we got a kishin to feast on." Taking several steps away from the tables she glanced to her partner and said, "I think an ax will work for now."

"Time for the butcher to get to work," stated Jane with a roll of her eyes. Stepping onto the table, she used it to launch herself into the air. In a bright yellow glow, she transformed and her new form fell to embedded its curved blade into the earth; a foot away from her meister. A median size wooden shaft served as the handle of the double edge ax. The middle portion of the head was a solid black while its blades formed two white crescent moons.

Walking up to the axe, with one hand the meister easily pulled it from the ground and heave the blade over her shoulder. She give a sharp whistle which the bird responded by taking flight and flying away in an easterly direction. Breaking into a run, the girl shouted as she disappeared from sight, "Happy hunting."

"Same to you," shouted Patty who, with the other two, was relieved that she had left. "That girl is plain out weird," said she after the emo was long gone.

"Yes, well," said Kid as he got out his seat. "It not our place to judge her habits since she is able to get the job done." He failed to mention that she usually does it after getting inflicted and inflicting massive damage to everything around her. But she does get the job done. "Let see if we can found a good restaurant to eat at." With nods of their heads the sisters got out of their seats to follow him out of there. Unknown to them, a hunch over man has been watching them the moment they landed. Grunting to himself, he quickly walked into an alleyway and went to his mistress to tell of his founding.

In an art studio somewhere just outside the city limits an artist was secluded in a dark room, only a single lamp on a painting, was busy working on her latest masterpiece. It's was a painting of a teenage boy at the base of one of the Eiffel Tower's feet. It was a great painting that might deserve a cozy home. The coloring and shadings were right, the proportions were wonderful, and everything was painted in good detail. However, the position the boy was in would repeal- if not cause shivers from disgust- anyone who was sane.

The boy's spine must had been broken or he was extremely flexible for he bent over until his head was under his crotch. Arms were extended out and bent back in an awkward angle as his fingers interlaced with one another. He was on his feet, but they were pointed to his sides instead of forward.

He was dressed casualty in a green t-shirt and blue jeans with open toes sandals. Long loose, black hair was pulled away from his face to show the terror fill hazel eyes and an unnatural grin. Though, if this was somehow made postmortem or he had made this finally expression while he was alive can't be determined. His death however, was told by the deep cut in his throat that showed to the bone. There wasn't any blood, but this painting had an eerie resembles of a crime scene that wasn't discovery over an hour ago by the police.

Putting on the last details, she did a few more carefully placed strokes on the canvas before putting the paint brush down on the table. "And done," said the woman with a smile. "My latest work is complete." With the upmost care she picked it up at the edges and took it over to a slanted table to dry. Once it was in place she admired it a little longer before the lights were turn on.

"Miss Peindre," said the man with a hand on the door handle and a finger at the light switch. "I must speak with you at once."

With a scowl, the tall woman turned to face her apprentice for she didn't like being seen without makeup. The reason being is that her skin was every shade of the rainbow from a light yellow to a dark red. Her eyes were an unbelievable dark orange while her hair was seaweed green. It looked as if someone took a manikin and thought to paint it the silliest and most colorful way possible.

In an attempt to cover her multicolored skin, she wore a long sleeve white with black poke-a-dotted shirt accompanied by a large, red fur collar. A long violet skirt went down to her ankles and her feet were hidden in black socks as she wore red high heel slippers. White gloves covered her hands and sunglasses were over her eyes. The only part of her body that wasn't cover up was her face which she used powder to masked it when she went out.

"Adrien," said she, her voice tight. "How many times how I told you that I don't want to be disturb when I'm working?" The apprentice was a small man with black shaggy hair. His skin tone was an olive like that of a gypsy, but had dark gray eyes. He wore a filthy dark brown jacket, a tattered white shirt, equally tattered jeans, and an ascot cap- a rounded and hard cap. Usually, he would be wearing much more suitable clothing, but few people paid attention to the homeless unless they got near you.

"I know Miss," said he without a hint of worry, "but I want to inform you right away about my findings." For a moment the woman stared at him weighting the choices of hearing his amusing but at the same time annoying attempts in finding his inspiration. Curiosity won out, so she grabbed a stool that was near the table and took a seat. With a wave of her hand she told him to tell her whatever great news he thought he acquired.

"Remember that dark looking girl and her friend you told me to keep an eye on." She gave a shallow nod. "Well, while I was keeping an eye on them this evening a boy dressed for a formal occasion came down from the sky on a skateboard and landed near the girls. Soon enough two more girls came out of nowhere and I believe I have put two and two together."

"And that would be?"

"I believe the son of Death had stumble into our grasp." He stood there for several seconds in silence as his mistress took the time to ponder over the information.

"So Death's son is visiting Paris." A smug grin creep onto her face as she said, "Is there any way that I can meet him?"

"I heard he is looking for a kishin," said the apprentice as he took off his hat to scratch at an itch on top of his scalp. "Maybe if we tell him we might know this man or woman he might pay us a visit."

"A kishin," said she as she chuckled darkly. "Well than," she said as she turned to face her works of art, "let not keep him waiting." Now, the studio they were in was on the second floor of a two story building. There were lights hanging from the ceiling, but the main source of light during the day was the one continuous sky light in the roof. Other than that there were no windows in the tan painted room. For furniture there was only a stool, a slanted table covered in painting materials, and another table which she used to eat and paint on. But there were plenty of paintings lying about, hanging in the air, and placed on the walls of all different styles. Abstract, expressionism, cubism, landscape and much more could be found for she believed an artist shouldn't limit his/her skills to one field.

Yet, all her paintings did have an obvious theme to them. There was always at least one person within them that either was in a strange position, dismembered, or shredded to pieces. Very last one of them was based on real events. Those she could found and those she created herself.

Creating a square with her fingers, she placed it over a void space on the wall and said, "Hm... how does _Memorial__ to Death's Legacy _sound?"

Clapping his hands together, he said, "Wonderful my lady. Does this mean you already form a glorious image in your mind?"

Turning to face her apprentice, she said, "Of course I have. Now go out and found that boy. Do not approach him until I get a look at him myself. And when you do found him make sure he stays in one place. I'll be with you as soon as I put my makeup on."

"Yes my lady," said the man knowing perfectly well that his mistress was one of those women who would take hours to prepare. "After I have pinpointed Kid and keep him there, I'll call you." With that said he left his mistress to do what she pleases as he scrambled as fast as he can back to the city. He knew that the boy was most likely not in the same place he found him, but finding people was his specialty. That was one of the reasons Miss Peindre accepted him as her apprentice.

After a full night and most of the morning had passed he finally found the meister. He and his partners were coming out of a hotel they spent the night in and were now wondering the streets talking to random people. Based on what he could gather it seemed he had an eye out for his mistress. Many times he asked about her by one of her nicknames and he lost count how many times he talked about her recent work he read about in the newspaper.

For perhaps an hour he tailed the trio who had no idea that he was behind them. It was nearly impossible to lose them. Have many polite boys with his unique hair is also accompany by two girls in matching outlandish outfits. To be honest he did for a moment or two lost sight of them, but when he asked the locals if they seen the trio. He would almost instantaneously be behind them again being more careful to keep them in his view.

Sometime around noon he decided to keep them in the local area. That was because his mistress could easily and quickly found her way to the Arc de Triomphe. He was, at the moment, hiding just outside one of the large arc entrances while the trio was under it. Kid was rumbling on how it was a sight to see while the oldest sister looked about with boredom as the youngest was looking over the arc in detail.

_Now how am I going to keep them there? _hethought. All around him there were tourists so he was going to need to find a way without drawing too much attention on himself. Out the corner of his eyes he spotted a mime who was entertaining a group of women. It was the typical mime with the white face and the silly outfit of black overalls and white shirt. With a shrug he thought, _Why not? It couldn't hurt to try. _

Walking over to the man, he said, "Excuse me ladies, but I would like to have a word with the actor." For a moment they stared at his filthy outfit, but with an okay they departed from the mime that was a little miff. Turning to face Adrien, he crossed his arms across his chest and waited for him to answer. "Keeping in character," he stated when the mime didn't say anything, "admirable, but annoying. No matter for I need your service."

The mime raised an eyebrow a little too dramatically, but it got the point across. Grabbing him by the shoulder, the apprentice turned the mime around to look at the trio. "See those kids over there," he said while pointing a finger. He got a nod. "My mistress would love to chat with them, but she can never seem to be in the right place at the right time. Would you please- don't worry, there will be an award in cash- keep their attention long enough until my mistress arrive."

For a moment the mime stared at the kids before putting a hand in his pocket and pulling a Euro out. "How much?" asked the apprentice which the mime gave a nod. "How does two hundred Euros sound?" He seemed skeptical about the amount for distracting some kids, but with a shrug he agreed. Money was money and for just a simple thing he would be willing to do it.

Pushing the mime toward the group, he shouted, "I'll call her up right. Now go in there and keep them rooted." For a moment the mime fought to keep his balance, but once he was safely on his feet he advanced on the unsuspecting trio.

While Adrien was busy searching for the nearest payphone, Kid and his partners were done with this place. Like every other place they been to so far everyone had heard of the kishin they were after. It's just that they were as clueless as they were into where to look. No one but her apprentice and soon to be victim had seen her face. How this is possible no one knows, but then again she had the uncanny ability of getting misplaced bodies in the most public areas without being seen. So it was hard for anyone, let alone the police, to put a face on the woman. However, from time to time one of her pieces of art was bought up and like any artist she left her signature which was the Artistic Kishin.

Though, if anyone did have information they would gladly give it for- though not officially confirm- the woman had murder about sixty-three people over the years. And being a kishin, she most likely had feed off the victims' souls growing stronger with each one. So that means Kid need to deal with her once and for all. That is, once he had an idea where to look.

With a sigh and a shake of his head Kid turned to the sisters and said, "Well, look like we're not getting anywhere."

"Maybe we're going about this in the wrong way," said Liz as she looked for Patty. The younger sister was talking to a couple of kids with balloons, but after Liz gave a shout she said goodbye to them and wonder back over. When she was with them again she continued. "I mean, this woman is an artist, right? We should be asking people in the art community. If anyone knows anything they should."

"Worth a shot," he said as he started to head out. "Now where can we find the nearest art museum?" They got about several feet before a mime stood in their way. With a wave of his hand he gave the trio a grin, before putting out the hand. "Um..." was all the reaper could mutter before taking the hand and shaking it. "How do you do?"

Letting go of his hands, the mime leap about and wave his hands in the air with joy. "I'm taking that as doing well," said Kid as he slowly edge away from him. "I would love to see you do some of your acting, but I got places to go and people to see. Liz, Patty, let get out of here."

"But can't we at less see him get trip in a box," said Patty in a sad manner.

"Patty," said the meister with a roll of his eyes, "we don't have time for this. Besides, it not like he would really trap himself within a box. He just pretends to do that." As if insult by what he said the mime got between Kid and the sisters and started feeling out an invisible box around him. The reaper stood there, unimpressed, and waited for him to finish what he was doing. "Oh dear," said he as he waved his hands in mock fear. "I'm trap. Whatever shall I do?"

Taking a step forward, he expected to be outside the imaginary box with no problems. Instead, his forehead made contact with something that felt very solid. As he stumbled back his back was pressed against an invisible wall as he placed a hand on his forehead. "What the..." he said, vocalizing the trio thoughts.

"Cool," said Patty as she and her sister patted the box around their meister. "You really are trap in a box." Forgetting about his meister for a split second she turned to the mime and asked, "Can you teach how to do that?"

Before the mime could reply in any way, Liz said, "Patty, I think getting Kid out of the box is more important right now." Staring at the eldest sister, the mime politely grabbed Patty by the shoulders and moved her out of the way. Than his arm bolted up in the air and spun his wrist clockwise while his hand grip onto something. Confused, Liz asked, "What are you doing?"

In a swift motion the mime throw forward something at the girl and when it was around her he gave one hard yank. The thing- which Liz had figured by now was a rope- clamped her arms to her sides and caused her to fall over. Soon enough the mime was on her and in ten second flat had her hogged tie. Lying on her stomach with both arms and legs in the air and tied together, she was not at all happy.

"Get me out of this," she shouted as the mime stood tall by his capture prize.

Clapping her hands, Patty said, "Bravo, but please let them go. We should really get going." With a frown he walked over to the blonde and started to make signs with his body. "Oh, charades! I like this game. Let see. Seven words first have to do with something with the eye. Pupil, iris, no… the cornea."

"Patty!" shouted Kid and Liz in prefect union.

A little bashful, she said, "Sorry got carry away there. Okay mime," she said as she got into fighting stance, "let them go right now or I'll give you the butt wiping of your life." The mime for a moment looked over the girl not sure if he should be worried or skeptical. With a shrug, he came up to her, snapped her wrists together, and tied them. "Hey," she shouted as she tried to pull them apart.

She raised a foot to strike out, but he already tied both ankles together. All she did was hop a little. "A little help here?" she called out to the surrounding crowds… who were applauding for the mime.

"They think this is a show?" said the trio in disbelief as the mime bowed to the crowd.

"Hello," shouted Kid as he slammed a hand into the wall. "We're not acting here. We're really are trapped and tied up."

Unfortunately for him and his partners, the mime was going to use them during the time he had. One of the time he did release them, but then he would use their frustration in the little showed he put on. For about forty-five minutes he entertained the crowds until Adrien and a tall, woman with a face covered in white powder arrived. By then, Kid was in the Stocks, Liz was hanging upside down from an invisible tree by one foot, and Patty was trying to found her way out of a maze. Needless to say, their annoyance was the audience's pleasure.

The mime was standing to the side watching the blonde travel through the maze when they came up to him. "Excuse me," called out Peindre, "you, the one that look a bit like a clown." Turning around, one could tell he was annoyed at being called a clown, but it fall to curiosity when he saw the apprentice with the woman. Walking up to him, she said, "Thank you for your service." Reaching into a purple leather purse she was carrying, she brought out the sum of cash agreed on to do this. "Please set them free so I can have a word with them."

After she placed the cash in the mime's hand, he gave them a slight bow before going over to the trio. First he went to Kid and with a hammer and chisel broke the lock to the Stock. Before the boy could get his spine back into alignment he went over to Liz. "Get away from me," she shouted as she waved her hands above- or would it be below? - her head. Ignoring her, he used his hand to cut through the rope which in turn caused the brunette to fall down. With her down on the ground he skipped over to the maze and come to a stop at one of its walls. Lightly, he knocked on it and with a thump the invisible walls slammed onto the ground. Hands up and on one foot Patty waited to be smack to the ground herself. When she wasn't she lower her guard with her arms and leg.

Bowing to the trio, the mime promptly pointed a finger at the artist and her apprentice before disappearing into the dispersing crowd. "Sorry about that," said the woman as she neared the trio as her apprentice followed closely behind her. "I heard you were town and had no other way of meeting you." Coming up to Kid, she held out her right hand and said, "The name is Peindre."

"Death the Kid," said he as he gripped the gloved hand and shook it. "But everyone call me Kid." Gesturing to the sisters he said, "Those are my partners Liz and Patty. Now that the introductions are out the way may I asked why you set a mime on us?"

With a welcoming grin, she lend forward and whispered into his ears, "I heard that you been after a certain Artistic Kishin."

As she lend back she saw she had gotten the reaper's attention. After a few moments of silence he asked, "What do you know of her?"

"I'll be more than happy to tell you something," said she as she spanned around on her heel. "But I think it would be best not to talk in the open. If you would dare to endure me I know of a place where we can talk without any ear droppers." She walked a few feet before stopping and glancing over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"

The trio looked at one another, uncertain if they should follow the stranger or not. But seeing that she was the only person who seems to have any information, the three give a nod to the other. "As long my partners can come along."

"Of course my dear," said she before facing forward to hide a dangerous gleam in her eyes. "It's a bit of a walk to get there, but it will be worth it." About an hour later on the outskirt of the city did they arrived at their destination. Just outside the city limit a two stories, red brick building stood out on the small lawn. There were several windows on the first floor, but the roof, made out of glass, was the only window on the second floor. Other than this, it looked like your everyday home.

"Come in," she said as she opened the door. The trio didn't get to see much of the first floor before the apprentice herded them from behind and the artist lead them up some stairs. The stairway ended at a leveled platform that stopped at a single unpainted door. "While Adrien fetch us something to drink we can talk some within my studio," she said as she open the door.

With nowhere to go they went inside, but not before Liz noticed that there was a padlock on the outside of the door. From the start she wasn't too comfortable about the woman, but after seeing that she wasn't going to argue with her fears. Once inside the woman closed the door and unknown, but suspected by Liz, the apprentice locked them in.

The room they were in was one large square with what walls they could see to be tan. Sunlight filtered into the room from the skylights allowing them to see the numerous, gruesome paintings that surround them. "Sorry that there only one seat," she said as she moved toward a table in the middle of the room. "People aren't allowed in here unless I invite them."

Taking a seat on a stool she watched with a content expression as they gaze, in a mix of disgust and engrossment, at the paintings. "If you like, you may examine them. I always enjoy it when people admire their genius."

To the three, genius wasn't the word that came to mind, but they got to admit they weren't something to sneeze at. Out of politeness the trio scattered across the room to glance over some of the artwork, taking no noticed of the intense stare the artist was giving them. As they spread out each one of them kept in mind to keep the other in line of sight.

This is how the sisters saw Kid freeze to a spot as he stared at a certain painting. For a moment he stood there, his gaze screw into place. Than for some reason he stared to sweat bullets as he trapped himself in a nervous trance. With a sigh from Liz and a curious look from Patty, the two walked up to him. "You alright," asked the eldest sister as they got by their meister's side.

When he didn't respond they turned their attention onto the painting. _Oh…_ thought the sisters in union as they sweat drop. It was a painting of a man who was obviously murdered, but it was greatly disturbed, stretch, and shrunk in so many different places.

"Do you like it," asked the woman, mistaken Kid's stress as approbation. "That was just a little experiment I tried out. Not my best work in my own opinion, but far from my worst."

For a few moments Kid stood before speaking- if you call a burst of words ran together as he shouted as speaking. "This is the most hideous piece of trash I very seen. It undefined, it coloring is horrible, and there is absolutely the most unsymmetrical thing I glimpse at." Pointing at an oddly shape head in the upper right corner he said, "Is this a head or a poorly drawn potato." Catching a glance of the torso he continued on with his harsh criticism. "And what the hell is this? A monkey with a pole up his ass could draw better than this."

As Liz and Patty waited for their meister to rant himself into submission, Peindre felt it was time to end this tour. She wasn't upset with the boy's harsh observation-okay, maybe a little, but being an artist she won't let one person thoughts unnerve her- but she had the perfect image in her head. And she was going make sure it becomes a reality. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a sharp hunter knife. On her feet she slowly crept up on them the knife posed to cut one of their throats. With the door lock and with the plan to kill the meister first she believed that this should be relatively easy.

Once she was in range, she tried to place one hand on the boy's mouth while pulling the knife across his throat. Both arms were stop by the sisters, each gripping the wrist and glaring daggers at the woman. "You think it be that easy," said Liz with a small smirk.

Liz's statement brought her meister out of his rant to see the knife pose dangerously closed to the side of his throat. "Perhaps not," she said, her sunglasses slid down her nose a bit to show off her eyes that was glaring at them. "But I do intend to get what I want."

The two expected the artist to make a break for it, but they did not expect her arms to melt in their hands. Letting go of the knife, she pulled back her wrist easily slipping through the sister grasp as she jumped back. "Yuck," shouted the sisters as they open their palms to see what the liquid was.

Turning around to face the woman, Kid said, "Did her arms just liquefied?"

Sure enough, a fluid of multiply colors seeped through the sleeves of her shirt. Glaring at them, Peindre said, "Look what you made me do. My shirt is soiled."

"Paint," said Patty, being the first to realize what the liquid is. Disbelief written on her face, she looked at the kishin and said, "Your body is made out of paint." She didn't say anything, but that strange smile on her face told them the truth.

"Liz, Patty," said Kid as he placed a foot forward to get into stance.

"Right," said the sisters as they glow a bright pink. They jumped into the air and came back down in their weapon forms. Catching the guns, he pointed them at the kishin in an unorthodox style. In each hand he held the pistols upside down, steadily.

They stared each other down, both side not wanting to make the next move. "I hate it when they struggle," said the woman as she stood up straight and took off her sunglasses. For a moment she examine it- which give Kid a chance to see that she didn't powder the areas under the glasses- and tossed it casually to the side. "Fine, but please be careful not to damage any of my paintings." With that said she pulled back her right sleeve to revel her multicolored arm. For a moment it looked as if it was melting, but it slowly morphed itself into one large blade.

Squeezing the triggers, Kid said, "She our kishin alright." The girls voice their agreement as the guns fired off purple rounds of their meister's soul wavelength. Without taking her eyes off them she dashed to the right running in a semi-circle. Following her movement he watched as her arm solidified before she charged at him. She was able to dodge the shots by zigzagging making it hard to hit her. When she was in range she pulled back her arm and lash out.

Kid backpedaled as she sliced away, which he easily dodged or blocked all of her clumsy strikes. She did managed to give him a shallow cut on the leg and only because for a moment he was back up against a wall. Apparently, she took out her victims through stealth so there was minimal resistance. As they danced around the room he respected the artist wish to try his best not to damage the paintings. But as they went some of the paintings have bullets holes or cuts, ruining them.

At one point, Kid let the woman strike out at his chest so he could sidestep her and slammed his heel into the middle of her back. She bounced off the ground several times before coming to a stop near one of her paintings. As she tried to get to her feet, Kid ruthlessly shot away at her. Ignoring the pain the best she can, she looked up to see the painting. With a grin her hand started to liquefy as it bolted for the image.

What happen next was a bit surreal. Her hand made contact with the canvas which Kid thought would ruin the painting, but instead it absorbed the hand. He didn't stop his bombardment, but he couldn't keep off a stun expression as he watched her entire body turned to paint and with a sucking sound, disappeared.

Once she was gone, he stopped firing, but he said as he advanced on the image, "Stay in weapon form. I have no idea what just happen." Edging his way toward the painting, he couldn't help but to examine it. The setting was a side view of a cliff jugging out into the ocean blue. The sun was either setting or rising over the horizon of an orange-reddish sky. Waves were lazily slapping up against the dark brown, jagged cliff. Light green grass blanket the cliff top with a single tree in the middle of it. Though, the focus of the picture was hanging from the tree. A man in his thirties was hanged by a rope, his eyes wide open and his mouth gasping.

After a minute of creeping forward he stood in front of the image. Staring at it, he used one of the pistols and tested its surface by poking it. It was as solid as a canvas can be. "Strange," he noted as he looked the painting over. "What was the purpose of what you did?"

"To become one with the art," exclaimed the woman as a hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulder. "Let me show you the wonders of it." With one strong tug he was sent tumbling forward and his body fazed through.

As he went through the canvas it shimmered and once he was in the painting. He fell about a foot and his face met the earth. Quickly getting to his feet, he scanned the area which he just landed in. Sure enough, he was standing on the cliff he was examining not too long ago. Everything to it was right to the detail except for the fact that behind him there was a clear view of the studio.

Unfortunately, everything in the painting felt as if he was still in the real world. It was a warm, calm day as the distant roars of the waves reminded him he was near a sea. He could also smell the offensive stench of the body that was not too far from him. Looking at it from a safe distance, he wondered what would happen if he cut him down. Would it change how the painting look or once he left would it look the same as he had entered?

While he stayed alert to any possible threats he walked quickly over to the corpse. As he neared it the smell grew stronger and he felt as if he would throw up. He got several yards away from it before stopping and raising the pistols. "I can't get any closer," he said out loud. "But I'm closed enough to shoot it down."

Before he could squeeze the triggers, the woman just appeared out of thin air in front of the body. "Don't you know it rude to ruin the idea of an artist?"

"Even if it's perverted," said Kid as open fired. She just arched an eyebrow and grinned at the meister as she jumped out of firing range. Instead of hitting the kishin, he riddled the hanging body with holes.

"But the question here is...," said the woman as she charge forward. Kid kept a steady bead on her but her body once again melted. Paint surge forward on the ground and the boy shot at it as he slowly walked backward. He thought he did something for each time a shot strike the liquid it would solidified. However, this did not stop it from jumping into the air and reform in time for a fist to land hard on Kid's right cheek. "... who got the right to decide what is perverted and what is appropriate?"

Kid was sent flying backward, but he got his hands under him and flipped himself back onto his feet, into a crouch. Shaking his head, he got rid of the daze in time to see a bladed arm coming straight for his face. Rolling to his side, it went by harmlessly while he came out of the roll and getting to his feet he recommence firing. Rewarded with the yelped of pain, he kept on the pressure as the woman backed off using her arms to take the blows.

"Normally, people would have different opinions on that subject," said Kid, his voice tainted with outrage. "But taking proud of killing and death in this form and then showing it off to the world. I would think a majority of people would agree that is plain out wrong."

"Than those people do not understand the meaning of the word inspiration," said she as she melted once more. Instead of going toward him the fluid flows toward the tree. She reformed behind the corpse her arms gesturing to it. "Look at how harmonious he is with his surroundings."

"Um, lady," shouted Patty as Kid charged forward while firing, "Not to burst your bubble, but the guy is dead."

Getting behind the tree for a shield, Peindre shouted out, "But that is the whole point on my art. While we live we are so disrupted, so destructive with everything we interact with. This is especially true when it comes to nature." Dissolving once more, she rounded the tree as Kid jumped around it to fire away. A bit confuse he looked to the ground and followed the trail of residue to found the artist standing at the end of the cliff. "Until we arrive," she said facing away from Kid, "this painting was in perfect peace. Everything was so quiet with the deceased just hanging there. Don't you understand- a reaper never the less- that the only true peace that we meager humans can have is in death. This is why I paint and this is why I put the poor souls I found to rest. I want to show the world the glory of death."

Standing not too far behind her with his head bowed, Kid was speechless, but not from lack of words, but the overwhelming things he wanted to say. But forcing himself to choose his words, he said, "You right about one thing. Once you explain why you painted it I completely understand your artwork." Turning to face him, she was about to say something when she saw the look on his face. Barely contain fury would be the words. "You disgust me. Turn death into this perverted version. Death can bring peace, but not the way that you bring it."

Raising the pistols up, he shouted, "Now die you filth!"

He fired off more shots which again- it was starting to get on his nerves now! - she melted into a pool of paint to dodge and rushed at him. Reform right in front of his face she said, "Pity, I actually hope you would understand, but no matter." Just in time Kid was able to jump back before she was able to stab him through the stomach. "All that matter is the art."

"Art this, art that," said Liz, who if was in human form would be rolling her eyes. "Can we kill her already so she will stop talking?"

"It would help if she would stay solid," stated Patty. "Unless we can hit her, all we doing are wasting shots."

"So that mean all we need is one well place shot," said the meister as he kept pressure on the kishin. "I think an execution is in order."

"Right," said Liz and Patty.

Dodging one more strike, Kid landed in a crouch a foot away from the corpse, his focus on the kishin. "Soul resonance," shouted the trio in harmony. Soul resonance, it's the ability that allow the meister and weapon to combine wavelength to perform powerful moves. To those who can't see souls-which Peindre can't- they wouldn't be able to see the strength of the soul as the meister's weapons enhanced it.

Even if she couldn't see the soul itself, the woman could see the end result. Three black spikes on both upper arms pierced the air. Black sparks of electricity leapt from the spikes as the pistols glow a bright white. In a few seconds they grew larger and rounder until two cannons appeared. They consume half of the mesiter's arms and extend a good few feet out. Most of the barrel was a dark black with three white lines ringing around it midsection while two long strips of polish steel were at the bottom sides. Shinigami skulls with its three teeth running alongside the barrel stood out the most, but the kishin was still on the fact that she was about to face down the muzzles of two huge cannons.

Lifting each arm as if the cannons weigh nothing, he watched as the kishin dashed forth. "Charging up cannons," said Liz as the muzzles started to glow yellow from the energy it was gathering.

"I'm may be a simple artist," said Peindre as she neared Kid. Thrusting forward her sword arm, she left a shallow mark on the meister's shoulder as he rolled out of the way. "But I know that I don't want to be on the receiving end of that." Not slowing down she rushed forward, trying her best to jab her arm straight through him.

Yet, Kid as before easily dodge each strike and was barely, if at all, slowed by the cannons. As the two tangoed the cannons kept on charging. "Sound resonance is at ninety-four percent," said Liz.

"We'll be ready to fire in three...," said Patty

"Two..."

"One..."

"Commence firing when ready."

With only a few inches between him and the cliff, it was probably best to postpone that order. Side stepping an attack he took several large leaps back before bringing his cannons up. Without saying a word, he fired. Rolling her eyes, the kishin quickly dissolved once more and rushed forward as a large yellow ball of soul energy sail overhead. Off in the distance somewhere in the sea there was a small explosion and a plume of a dark cloud shaped in skulls with water rushed up into the air.

Reforming once again in front of Kid, she said, "You miss..." She quickly shut up as she stared down the barrel of still armed cannon.

"Unsymmetrical Death Cannon," shouted Kid in a pained voice.

"Oh crude," was all she said before a ball of energy crashed into her gut and send her sailing through the air. A silence scream came from her gasping mouth as she left her painting, passing through the canvas's wall with ease. The heels of her shoes barely scraped the floor of her studio as she went. Pain quite unimaginable unless one experience it lasted until her back made connect with the door. At that moment the ball of energy exploded, sending the door flying from it hinges as the dark plumes filled the studio.

Within the picture, Kid saw this take place, though his mind was somewhere else. The cannons turned back into pistols which the meister soon let go to allow the girls to turn back into humans. As the smoke cleared they could see hovering right by the now empty door frame a kishin soul. With a smirk and slapping her hands together, Liz said, "That take care of that." Turning to her meister she said, "Well, now all we have to do is figure a way out of here." Seeing that Kid was looking to the ground, frozen to the spot as Patty waved a hand in front of him, Liz asked, "Are you alright, Kid?"

"Am I alright?" he said slowly, in a low tone. Raising his voice, he looked up to reveal a stress out face. "I just fired you two off unsymmetrical! Of course I'm not alright!"

Having the sudden urge to slap his meister across the face, Liz surpassed it and said, tensely, "Kid, I think getting out of this picture at the moment is far more important than that."

Falling to the ground using his hands as support to keep from meeting it, Kid shouted, "But I'm a piece of unsymmetrical trash! I don't know how I'll go on!"

"Really," said Liz as she smacked the palm of her hand onto her forehead. For some reason, Patty was glancing between Kid and the canvas wall. "Now is a very bad time for you to have one of your nervous breakdowns."

"But I..." was all Kid managed to say before Patty gripped him by the collar and back of his shirt. Lifting him off the ground she heaved him forward. "Patty," shouted Kid and Liz as the meister sailed off the cliff and at the wall. As he screamed he fazed through and landed hard on his face.

"Next," shouted Patty as she gestured her sister to go through. Shrugging, the eldest sister got to the other side of the cliff, run toward the wall, and took care not to look down as she leapt. Holding her breath, she didn't let it out until she landed on solid ground on the other side. Her meister was still on the floor, mumbling to into it, but she left him be so she could make sure her sister got through.

It was kind of funny to watch the miniature size Patty jump a seemly small gap as she let out a squeal of glee. When she was in the real world she shouted, "Let do that again!"

"Let's not," said Liz as she looked at her meister. "Come on Kid," said she as she kneel down to help him up, "we still need to see where that apprentice went off to." After a few minutes of talking to him, he finally got up and helped out with searching for the apprentice. They checked very room in the house, but it seemed that he got away. He must have heard the explosion and coming up with the most plausible explanation he quickly gathered some things and got out of town.

Grudgingly, Kid gave the single soul to Patty who now had one more soul than Liz. With their job done the sisters turned into their weapon form, Kid summoned his skateboard, and they headed home.

* * *

><p>Walking by a set of railroads with a bag slung over his shoulder, Adrien thought to himself of the misfortune of his mistress. If you could get pass the craving for souls and her strange style of art she wasn't a bad woman. While he was with her for those four years he was feed, given a shelter, and plenty of clothing. Some of the arts lessons were also nice, but he doubted he would be able to make a living off it.<p>

Oh well, guess he just have to move on. At the time being he was several miles away from the city and all around him there was nothing but grass, bushes, and trees. He had spent way too much time in Paris and a change of scenery would be nice. Next stop would be somewhere in England or the United States. Both places have high potential job wise, but the U.S was said to be a land of milk and honey. Of course, he doesn't believe that, but still...

Coming to a stop, he called out, "Whoever is following me, come out this instance. I am arm and not afraid to kill." He was bluffing, but at times like this a bluff could be far more affected than a real threat.

A rustling of a bush came from his left and stepping out of it was a small woman. Her outfit just screamed witch with the orange frog hat, the long sleeve, white poke-a-dotted, black dress, black pants, and knee-high white boots. Long straight silvery hair went halfway down her back; though, the narrow mouth with black dots at its ends seemed stranger.

"What do you want witch?" he asked with a sigh. Just his luck, he just got to meet a witch tonight.

"Don't worry," she said with a neutral expression. "All I'm looking for is your service."

Arching an eyebrow, he said, "Define service."

"My... employer heard you are a tracker."

Shrugging, he replied, "It's a living. What of it?"

"What if I say my employer can pay you handsomely if you can find her a certain someone?"

With a thoughtful expression, he said, "Can she pay up front?"

Holding out her hand, the witch repeated rab-bit several time. Poofing into existence, a small bag of something was in her palm. She handed it o him and hr took a peek inside. It was full with golden coins that looked as if they were from several centuries back. He's no expert but if these were real he would be soon a very wealthy man. Grinning, he looked up at the witch and said, "Who is it I'm looking for?"

Producing out of nowhere a small slip of paper, he ignored that little fact as he picked it up and looked it over. "You're kidding, right?" he asked. As she shook her head he was having second doubts about this. "Exactly how soon would you like me to find this guy?"

"Six months," she said with an air of warning, "six months and that all."

"And if I don't found him." The silence was all he needed for an answer. "Right..." he said as he placed the paper into his pocket. "Can I at least have a clue to where I can start?"

"Start in Greece," said the witch as she turned and walk away. "That is his birthplace."

He watched her until she was out of sight before letting out another sigh. "Well, look on the bright side. I never have been to Greece before." So with fate deciding to put more hardship on him, he turned around and head east- toward the birthplace of the Western civilization.

* * *

><p>Tsubaki: *Pulls out last of needles from Daisy's chest. Daisy was sniffling a little.* It's alright. Black*Star was just trying to be nice. He didn't mean to do what he did.<p>

Daisy: I'm not mad at him. *Cringe a little as another needle came out.* I didn't even send my friend out of him. They are just very protective of me.

Tsubaki: They sure are. Have you called them off.

Daisy: I tried, but I think that the ninja won't will be safe until he found an area with no friends.

Tsubaki: Well, he should be fine for the time being. As for the readers we hope you enjoyed the read. Also, please review for we like it when people give their thoughts. Hardly anyone review last time and we like it when you comment. Flames, constructive criticism, and comments of any kind are welcome. As always, have a nice day.


	8. Chapter 8

Daisy: *Springing form a box, she was dressed as a magician.* Welcome to another chapter! For my first trick I will my Soul appear. *She waved her wand and pointed it at the ground.* Alakazma! *A cloud of smoke filled the room. As it cleared the albino stood in the middle of it, coughing.*

Soul:*Looking about in confusion.* Daisy, what are you doing in my room?

Daisy: *Put a cup of water in his hand.* Not your house and drink this.

Soul: *Looked the cup over before downing it. Wiping his lips.* Okay, what the big deal?

Daisy: *Smiling.* For my next trick I'll will become one with nature. *Before his very eyes, the albino watched as the girl's skinned turned gray. Hair became straw, eyes give way to two large butterflies, and teeth turn to pearls. Within seconds she had became a statue. Not soon long after it collapse onto the floor right at his feet as the butterflies flew away.*

Soul: *In shock.* Daisy? *The room begin to wrinkled. Looking to the drink.* She drugged me! *The world kept on wavering as he fell to the floor. He was out cold.*

Daisy: *Face appearing in a blow of dust.* Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eight<p>

Giggles. That all he could hear. A continuous, never lasting, maddening sound drove deep into his psyche. How long it had been tormenting him he had no idea. Seconds could had been hours in this world. Worst part about it is that he was in a middle of a city soothing with pure chaos.

Under a red moon drooling black blood between green teeth, a party was in full swing. Tropical bird/human hybrids paraded down the streets, dancing to the upbeat Caribbean music. With them were masked people in bright colorful clothing. Some walked on stalls, some danced along the hybrids while others threw beads and candies from floats. In the dark skies Chinese dragons of all sizes and colors soared through the air with fireworks trailing behind them. Next to the buildings were skeletons made of sugar wearing large sombreros and loose fitting clothing. They chatted and drunk with people in white masked wearing formal clothing. On the roof tops bulls were running down the brave and idiotic men who would be crash from time to time. In the distance hanging from a string high in the air was a glass ball that resembled the one the New Yorkers would drop on New Year's Eve.

With this going on one would think that the pink-hair meister- his body was drained of all colors- wouldn't be distracted by just a simple noise as giggling. He also should take note of what he was wearing. A bright red, short sleeve shirt decorated in cut opened pineapples hanged from his thin frame. Black formal pants went along with white gloves, but not with the green tennis shoe and open toe sandal. Press against his forehead was a crescent moon mask that could cover half his face when pulled down.

There he stood in the middle of the street his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block the sound out. The parade did its best to flow around the obstacle that the meister was. But as the floats came near they couldn't change their course so easily. Luckily for all, he heard a sharp hissing sound that was similar to ice making contact with a hot skillet. It lasted only for a moment, but it broke the trance he was in.

Shaking his head, he heard in time- if not fully understood- someone behind him shouting. He glanced over his shoulder to see a float bearing down on him. Without thought he sprinted to the right to avoid being run over. The person driving the float with flamingos dancing on a drum shouted at him as he passed by.

Ignoring what he believed to be insults, Crona scanned the area around him. "Where am I," he whispered as he watched the parade dance around him. He doesn't remember how he got here or why. One thing he was sure of was that he needed to get out of the street before become more of a hazard. So heading toward the nearest sidewalk a few of the marchers asked him to stay and join them. He politely refused the offer as he went.

Once on the sidewalk he took a better look of the area. The block itself doesn't remind him of anything in particular but he could tell he was in Mexico again. "But...I'm back in Death City," he said as confusion kicked in. Apparently, he wasn't. Going up to one of the skeletons he tapped its shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but can you help me with something?"

The skeleton turned from his conversion with another of his kind to speak with the meister. "Si, what is it you like to know?"

"Where exactly am I?"

Looking him over, the skeleton said, "I think you're in the wrong place." A bony finger pointed behind the meister as it said, "Don't know where the costume party is, but that girl over there might know." Crona glanced over his shoulder to see what girl the skeleton was talking about. Not too far away skipping this way was a person in an equally strange outfit he was in.

She- base on what the skeleton said- was dressed in a long sleeve black shirt covered in stars. A grass skirt went down over the top of snow boots. On the right hand there was a black fingerless glove. Over her face was a sun mask that had red tainted glass in the eye holes. A Santa cup sat upon a head of long, straight, dirty blonde hair that was cut at the shoulders. "There you are," she said as she landed right beside the boy. "I had been looking all over for you." Grabbing him by the wrist, she added, "The party is deeper in the city. We better hurry or we're going to be late."

Barely able to say a quick thank you to the skeleton, the meister was jogging along with the girl as they headed west. He doesn't know why, but her voice sounded familiar. "Where are we going?" he asked as they weaved through the crowd.

"To the party silly," she replied as a hand kept her cap in place. Getting the feeling that he wasn't going to get anything else out of her, he just kept on jogging. As they went the blocks started to change. Buildings of stone and bricks of few stories were become fewer and the sidewalks and streets slowly faded until the landed flatten out into one large linoleum floor. Arches and pillars of Greek architecture towered in the sky as stars made of cardboard hang from an invisible ceiling. People began to look more like them wearing the most ridiculous outfits possible. All the strange beings expect for the dragons had disappeared. The large glass ball could still be seen.

The two didn't stop until they entered an area where music often found at ceremonial gathering and the crowd grew so dense that it was impossible not to bump into someone. Most of the people were standing up talking to one another. Some of them had food and drinks in hand, but since the boy haven't seen anywhere where food could be laid out. He wondered if they got it somewhere else.

They were now walking, the girl continued to pull him along. Coming to a sudden halt, she said, "Here we are." Turning to him, he wondered if she was smiling under that mask. "Though, it a little dull for my taste."

"Well," he said as he pulled his wrist out of her grip, "it would be nice to know who you are so we can fix that." Why does he got the feeling she was rolling her eyes?

"Don't remember me," she said with a little mirth.

"It might help if you take off the mask."

"No can do," said she with a giggle. Freezing into place, he finally realized why she sounded familiar. "Took you long enough," she said as turned her back on him. "Funny have a mask can hide one true identity, isn't it? Though, you should have picked another one." Reaching out to grab her by the shoulder, she eluded his grasp and disappeared into the crowd.

"Not good," he said as he tried to follow her. Shoving his way through, it would seem that the people didn't mind. He couldn't have cared if they had taken notice. Right now they were all in danger if she decided to go nuts. As he went it would seem as if the crowd was getting thicker if that was even possible. Suddenly, a spot light blinked him, forcing him to cover his eyes and stop momentarily.

"Lady and gentleman," said a voice amplified by a microphone. "Today winner for tonight drawing is Mr. Albarn. Please give him a hand and a round of applauds." One would think the two phases would mean the same thing, but it didn't in this case. The applauding crowd grabbed hold of him and picked him up.

He struggled as they carried him over their heads. "Put me down!" he shouted. Off in the distance he thought he spotted a Santa cap in that vast sea of flesh. "Listen to me! There is a very dangerous girl out there who could..." But his voice was lost with the amount of people that were clapping. It sounded much like that of rain drops falling heavily onto a tin roof.

The crowd didn't let go of him until he was near a white wooden platform. They tossed him the on the final several feet. Landing on his feet, he tried to make a run for it, but a woman who was the only person around wearing a full black suit grabbed him by the arms. Spun around, he was about to shout at her when a lime green lollipop was shoved into his mouth.

"As the winner of the drawing you get a free trip to Candy Land," said she as she gestured to a carriage made out of a pumpkin off to one side of the platform.

"But I can't go," he said as he spitted the sucker out. "I got to go out there and stop her before any harm can be done." But hearing none of it the woman turned him around and shoved him toward the carriage. A dwarf dressed as a miner open the carriage's door. "I don't have to go if I don't want to," he said, hoping to reason with them. Instead, he was pushed into the pumpkin with a farewell.

Landing on the surprising hard, wet floor, there was no way he could have got up in time before the door was slammed shut. The carriage started out at a slow pace but it quickly gain speed. The sound of horses galloping- where did those come from? - filled the air as the clapping faded away. Knowing that he won't be able to get out until he reached his detestation, he took a seat on one of the two benches curved out of the walls.

When he got himself in place he was surprise to found an all too familiar woman in front of him. Tall and skinny, she was the dream girl of most man with her curvy body and large breasts. Yellow eyes like that of a cat stared at him in recognition as she twirled a bit of her purple hair around her index finger. A black witch hat sat on top of her head which hid her cat like ears. She wore a bluish- purple tank top under an open black jacket that ended right above her belly. Legless shorts colored like that of the tank top hung loosely from her hips. Long, tight fitting, black stockings cover her legs while black high heel slippers were on her feet. There was no sign of her tail.

For a moment the two stared at the other before Crona spoke. "Blair, what are you doing here?"

"Going to a Halloween party," she said as she blinked. "I think. I have been in this carriage for so long now that I think that it's going in circles. Though why are you here? I thought you weren't much of a party person."

"I'm not," he said as he glanced out the window. All there was to see was one continuous blur of colors. "Can't remember have I even got here, but at the moment I'm going to Candy Land." Shaking his head, he added, "I should be out there looking for that girl. Not here in this damn carriage."

"Well," said Blair as she leaned back and pulled down the brim of her hat, "might as well enjoy the ride while it last. Don't think we're..." The carriage came to a jerking stop sending Crona flying out of his seat as Blair bang her head against the wall behind her. She felt pressure on her breasts as she rubbed the sore spot on her head. Looking down, right between her mounts was the meister.

Grumbling, he grabbed the woman's arms and pushed on them to sit up. "Sorry about that," he said, once he was back in his seat.

"No problem," she said, rolling her eyes. If there was one male who wouldn't be blushing with embarrassment after landing like that. It would be the asexual boy sitting in front of her. "I got the worse of that stop."

"All getting off for Candy Land gets off now," said a voice as the door flew open.

"Guess this is my stop," said he as he got up. With one foot out the door he glanced over his shoulder and asked, "Mind coming along? I'm sure that this Candy Land will be more entertaining than this ride."

"No thank you," she said, yawning as she lean back once more. "Even if I never get to the party I can take a nap."-waving a hand- "Have fun."

Giving a nod, he stepped out of the carriage and quickly glanced toward the front of it. He still couldn't see any horses, but when the door slammed behind him. There were a few scarping of hooves into the grassy ground. The cracking of a whip he hadn't heard before send the carriage forward. At first it slowly carted away, but soon it built up speed until it was nothing more than a smudge on the horizon.

Once it was out of view he turned around to see why the place he came to was called Candy Land. He was standing right at the edge of a road that looked to be made out of black licorice. Walking over to the sidewalk he bent down and grabbed a loose piece about the size of a pebble. Usually, he wouldn't do this, but he licked it. It was mint. Tossing it down he gazed at the buildings constructed of gingerbread, peppermints, icing, and gumdrops. Lawns were made out of jolly, flowers jellybeans, bark of trees were chocolate while their leaves green taffy.

"This is getting stranger by the second," commented the meister as he walked down the street. So far all he seen was plants and buildings but where were all the people. As he turned a corner a rotten tomato nearly missed his head by a hair width. Stopping in place, he looked down the way the tomato came from. Standing not too far away, his arms fill of all sort of edible goods, was a man wearing a lettuce green shirt with blue licorice jeans.

Without warning he picked up a piece of celery and tossed it at the meister. He doubted it would have hurt, but never the less he sidestepped the incoming vegetable. The man was about to toss something else when an eggplant exploded on his back. A young girl dressed in red licorice dress laugh at the man as he stumble forward, but was soon running away screaming when he pelted her with nuts.

Deciding that it was high time to get out of here, he turned around to go the way he came when a delightful smell stopped him. Sniffing the air several times, a small grin spread across his face as a single thought appeared. _Apple Pie! _Helooked this way and that seeing no bakery in the immediate area. He knew he should let it be, but that tempting smell was calling to him. It couldn't hurt to venture forth a little way. If he ran into another person like the one just recently he'll rush on by them and hope not to get hit.

With his nose as his guide he carefully explored the town. For several more blocks he didn't encounter anyone else nor did he find where the smell was coming from. Thinking that it was unlikely to run into another person he let his guard down. So he was caught completely by surprise when he turned a counter and was nearly pelted by a cooked turkey.

Barely ducking in time, the turkey sailed overhead landing with a loud thud. Before he could turn and run something red and round from behind soar by his ear. Dashing forward, he kept his head down, running straight into the middle of a war zone. People of all ages were tossing food at each other but not in malice. They were laughing with just cheer that the meister got the feeling that this was all intentionally fun. Though, he doesn't see how being hit by a huge jawbreaker in the face could be call fun.

Seeing as the way he came wasn't an option- the smell also was the way he was going- he braved the battlefield. Thanks to long hours of training he was able to weave his way through with taking little damage. The worst of it was when a balloon full of ketchup fall on a person's head and some of the splatter got onto his shirt. As he went the fighters started too thinned out until he came to an area where there was no one about. There was plenty of wasted food all over the place, but he was on his own now.

Scratch that, after just walking a few feet and turning a corner, a girl sitting nonchalantly in a wooden chair next to a tall, shiny metal, cylinder structure came into view. Unlike anyone else he seen so far the brunette was wearing a plain violet dressed- the same color of her eyes. She was on the short side and a bit stocky, but seemed very confident. At her bare feet was a mug of wine which she picked up when he near her.

"Good evening Crona," said she as she looked him over. "What wacky tailor dressed you up? You looked like the tail end of some crazy fashion diva rejected idea." Taking a deep drink out of the mug, she downed a third of it before sighing in content. Chuckling, she asked the staring boy, "Is there something wrong?

Shaking his head, he said, "You look oddly familiar."

Full out laughing, she took another deep drink before saying, "I do, but since I can't go around breaking the forth wall and all that. Just pretend I'm a figment of your imagination." Standing up, she put the mug down as she said, "Let me guess. You smell the goodies that are not supposed to be served until later tonight."

She got a nod. "Well," she drawled as a hand cupped her chin. "I don't know I should be doing this, but..." Glancing about to make sure no one is around, she gestured him to bend down. He did so and when he was low enough she whispered into his ear. "Promise me that you'll tell nobody about this." He gave her another nod. "You better for I don't take kindly to those who cross me." She stated it like a fact rather than a threat.

"I won't speak to a soul about it," he said as he straighten up, meaning every word.

"Alright than," she said as she walked over to the strange structure. Gesturing to it, she said, "As you can see here we got some random object standing in an obscure location. To the unknowing it just another piece of scrap metal, but," - she rack her knuckles against it to produce a hallow sound- ", I know that there something inside."

Making contact with the structure at the end of her four fingers and thumb, an electrical current was created. Streaks of electricity flow into her hand causing little harm to it. Several seconds went by before she broke the circuit by pulling her hand away. A piece of the wall slid into the ground to revel a small room big enough for the meister to stand in. "There you go," she said as she sat back down. Picking up the mug, she added, "Just step right in and you'll be where you want to go."

A bit skeptical he glanced between the girl and the room. She didn't take notice of his look as she drunk from the mug. Shrugging, he stepped into the room and waited there for several seconds. Expect for staring at the wall nothing was happening. "Oops," said the girl as she placed her fingers on the structure, "forgot to reactive it."

With a sharp click the door shot up into place plunging the room into darkness. The floor gave way to empty air. Crona let out a scream as he fell, but stop when he met ground after a several feet. But the ground was too steep to stand on so his feet went from under him and his back meet cold steel. Downward he slid with little idea of what was going on around him. He could hear the turning of gears and clashing metal making him fear that he have fallen into some type of machine.

For some time he was in the dark with only the increasing sound of machinery to tell him he was making progress of some sort. Finally, a source of light at the end of what he determined was a tunnel appeared. Bracing himself, he shot out of the opening, blinded by the light. His body dived into a pool of something round and hard. For several seconds he was disoriented until his eyes refocused.

He found himself surrounded by plastic balls of different colors. Wiggling his way up, he broke the surface and bonked his head against cast iron. Ignoring the pain he obverse the narrow opening between the metal and the edge of the pool. More or less swimming he made his ways to the exit thinking who bright idea was this. When he got to it he had never been so happy to be so thin. It was a tight squeeze, but once he fitted his head through he was able to crawl out.

As he smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothing he muttered, "I really hope this wasn't a wild goose chase." Breathing in deeply through the nose, he knew that he was in the right place. Looking up, his jaw dropped as he stared at the humongous room. For what seemed like miles there were piles of baked goods that were as tall as mountains. Flanking the mountains' sides were larger stoves that were throwing out thousands of goodies by the minute. Name it and there was a good possibility that one favorite baked dessert was here. Pies, lemonade bars, cookies, tarts, cakes, brownies, and fudge were just a few of the items Crona could recognize in one glance.

Though, his mind was focus on one thing that was luckily within reach. Going up to the base of a mountain that was not too far away, he let his nose hunt out the dessert. Finding the pie without a blimpish on it, he picked it up and held it under his nose. One last sniff was taken to confirm the pie identity. With it confirm he took a large bite out of it.

To say that it was the most wonderful thing he had very tasted would be an understatement. Baked crust mixed in with the warm fluid danced on his tongue. It was just sweet enough that it wasn't overbearing yet also at the same time not lacking flavor. Slowly savoring the taste, he lost himself in a world of bless.

"Are you enjoying the pie," asked a chirpy feminine voice that held no ill will. Stopping in mid-chew, he swallowed as a light blush grace his face. In his haste he didn't think that these pies would belong to anyone. Of course, somebody must have made them for something like this doesn't just materialized on its own.

"I'm sorry," he said as he turned around, "I should have known this…" He stopped when he didn't see anyone. Shrugging, he said," I must be imagination things."

"No you're not," said the voice with a giggle. "I'm down here." Looking down, he blinked several times to make sure his eyes weren't lying to him. Standing right in front of him was a pink pony. While her coat was pink her curly hair, scratch that, mane and tail was bubblegum colored. Blue eyes that were brimming with joy gazed at him as she smiled. On her right flank there was an image of three balloons in a pyramid formation; two on the bottom were blue while the one on top a yellow.

For a moment he stared at the pony thinking he must be losing it. His fears were confirm when she said, "And don't worry about the pie. I'm probably making too much as it is, but I want everyone up there to have a full tummy. People are always happy with a full tummy." She started to bounce in place, going high enough to meet Crona's face. "Oh, I do wish I can be up there. It so boring staying down here making sure all those goodies isn't brunt or damage. But that doesn't matter if everyone had a big, happy grin plastered on their face."

Defying the law of gravity, she stopped in mid-bounce to put a hoof out. "The name is Pinkamena Diane Pie, but everyone just call me Pinkie." Not wanting to be rude, the meister gripped the hoof and shook it. Before he could utter a word, the pony said, "Wait! Don't tell me your name. Let me guess." Hoof slipping out of his hand, gravity decided to reapply its rule on Pinkie. She fell onto her rump, sitting there, pressing a hoof to her chin as she put on an inquisitive expression. To the meister, she looked cute in a ridiculous way.

After several seconds she jumped onto her hooves as she pointed a hoof at him. "I know! Your name is Bruce."

Chuckling, he said, "No, Crona. That's my name, but thank you for not calling me something like Cailin. Most people assume I'm a girl."

"Really," said she with an awestruck expression as she reassume bouncing. "I would have never guessed that. Why did you stop eating the pie?" The sudden change of question caught him off guard. Pouting, she said, "You don't like it do you? And Apple Jack said I have improved my apple backing skills. Not saying my cooking was bad, but…"

"It's not bad at all," interrupted Crona before she went into a rant. "I think it taste wonderful. Only reason I stop eating is because I'm talking to you."

"Oh," she said before breaking off into giggles, "of course that the reason. Eat you silly boy, eat. You're at a party which I'm a co-hosting so fill up." Not arguing with that logic Crona started to munch away at the pie again as the hyperactive pony went into another rant. "So I take it everything is going well upstairs. Must be for expect the fact that you're a gray blob you look great. If I see AJ anytime soon I should thanks her with baking apple treats. Do you know AJ? No? She a friend of my and she live on an apple farm and love apples. Of course, she from the Apple family so I guess that isn't surprising. Gummy however, he's my pet alligator, hate apples. He's…"

As she kept on talking the meister was more than content with munching on his pie. Once in a while he would give a nod to show that he was listening, but since she wasn't going to stop any time soon. He doubted he get a word in. She was at the apex of her bounce when she once again made a joke of gravity. For a moment she hovered there before she came back down, her entire body twitching like mad.

"Are you alright," asked the meister as he finished the last of the pie.

"My Pinkie sense is going crazy," she said as she clenched her teeth. "Something big is going to happen soon. It includes you and somebody you know."

"Can you be a little more precipice?" he asked, skeptically. "Like what's going to happen or who this person is."

"Sorry, don't have a clue on what going happen. I think it might have to do with that girl behind you." At the moment he heard the giggles. Tensing up, he spun around to see the edge of a black skirt. There was no doubt upon who the girl was. Dashing forward, he faintly registered the pony shouting, "Don't go in there!"

Only after he had run in did he realize his mistake. Turning around he looked for the entrance which he just came in from. It wasn't there. Panicking, he tried to back track his steps to run into a dead in. _A maze,_ he thought to himself grimly. _And I am lost within it. _Hearing more giggles behind him, he twisted around to see the edge of a black skirt. Thinking that it would be best to go after her, he sprinted forward.

She was making sport of him. Since the maze's walls were bake goods, if she tried to climb up it she would have left a clear trail behind. Yet, he didn't see any footprints when he looked around at a dead end. Each time he followed her giggles he would find himself with nowhere to go, but the girl would just disappear; reappearing right behind him with only the glimpsed of her skirt and her giggling to tell where to follow.

By the time he had followed her to the end of the maze he had nearly run himself into the ground. Huffing and sweating heavily, he made one last turn to face a pink pony who was not amused. "What were you thinking?" she shouted. "If you weren't so lucky in finding the exit you could have been trip in there for days."

Caring little of being reprimand, he asked, "Where did she go?"

"You mean the super witty, giggling girl who was leading you all over the place," said Pinkie with a fond smile. He gave a nod and twitched his eye in annoyance. Turning around, she pointed a hoof at a rounded metal door that had a large crank on it. "She went that way." Shoving the pony to the side, Crona made it halfway before Pinkie shouted, "If you going outside you should pull your mask down."

"Why," he asked without stopping. At the door he gripped the crank and tried to turn it. It groaned as it slowly turned, sounding as if it hadn't moved in years.

"I think you found it easier to work that if you put the mask on."

Sighing, he quickly pulled the mask over his face and return to the door. As the pony said the crank turned without a problem. With little time to marvel over the strange phenomenon he kept on turning it until the door popped loose. It took some effort to open it, but he managed. Taking a peek inside from around the door, he found a small tube shape room with a ladder attached to the wall. Without hesitation he went over to the ladder and started climbing it.

"Good luck with your chase," said Pinkie as she came up to the door. "I got to shut this now so be careful not to fall." Once the door slammed shut the room the only source of light was cut, sending the room into darkness. Making sure that at all time he had three points contacted on the ladder he slowly scaled it. Time seemed too crept by as he went, the air in the tube grew staler and humid. Each breath became a labor and his muscles started to scream to stop. Because he haven't pause after the maze, he feared if he stop he might never move again so he kept going up.

The end of the climb came when he banged his head against something. "This just isn't my night." He muttered as a hand rubbed the sore spot. Making sure he had a hand and feet securely on the rungs he used the hand on his head to touch the new found ceiling. "Glass," he muttered as he kept on touching it. Pressing up a little too hard, moonlight spilled in from a crack shaped in a square. Pressing up some more, the trapdoor opened up to the night sky.

Cautiously, he climbed through the hole onto the glass ceiling. Whatever he was standing on was swaying slightly in the welcoming breeze. Though, it was chilly as he stood there scanning the area around him. It didn't take long for him to figure out that he was standing on top of the glass ball. Not far from him was the thick, metal cord suspended the ball in the air. It was also the only place that one could view of the entire city and a little yonder beyond its lights.

One step at the time he walked away from the trapdoor to take a peek over the edge. The glass before him gradually rounded out enabling him to walk a half a dozen feet before it suddenly drop off. At a safe distance, he peered over the edge to look down at a large plaza. In the middle of it was the Mexican flag and crowding its sides were what he guessed thousands of people. From where he was everything looked so small. Only reason he could tell there were people were because they were the only thing packed together moving.

As he took in the sight he heard something slammed shut from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn't see the trapdoor. A little adrenaline pumped into his blood stream as he rushed over to where he lasted remembered the door to be at. After patting his hands in vain against the smooth surface for several minutes he sat down and crossed his legs. Taking in a deep breath, he said, "Okay, no need to panic. Base on all the people around they plan on dropping the ball soon. I'll just wait for it to descend and once it's near the ground I'll jump off."

"I would advise that you didn't do that," said a scarlet dragon in a loud booming voice as it started to circle the glassy globe. It doesn't have fireworks trailing it.

"And why not?" shouted Crona.

"When they drop the ball they drop the ball."

For a moment the meister sat there in silence. "They don't really drop the ball. It's just lowered gently to the ground. Right?" The dragon didn't give an answer so he looked to the cord again. The gray of his eyes knock the blue to the edge of his irises as he stared at the latch. It was position right above where the cord attached to the ball. If one wanted to all they would have to do was push a button and bye-bye pink-hair meister.

From down below a chant started to pick it. How it was loud enough to be heard from up here he doesn't have a clue, but it took him a moment to understand the faint words. "Drop the ball, drop the ball, drop the ball…"

Hesitantly, he asked, "What time is it?"

"Five minutes till twelve," said the dragon as he flew off. "Hope you grow wings in the next few minutes." Since that wasn't going to happen any time soon he fall back on a more likely to succeed but still desperate tactic.

"Don't drop the ball," he bellowed as loud as his lungs would let him as he rushed over to the edge. "I'm up here! I repeat, don't drop the ball." He tripped and nearly dived off the sphere, but he managed to catch himself before going over. All the while he kept on shouting as he crawled back to safety. From down below the chanted slowly give way to screams.

He imagined people pointing their fingers and shouting as someone, hopefully, was running to whatever was holding this thing up. As pieces of the mass of flesh started to move away, calm came over the meister. On his butt he thought to himself that everything will be alright. Just sit back and enjoy the...

Something under tension snapping drew his attention to the cord. Staring in disbelief, slowly but surely the metal was breaking. As more of it broke free more weight strain on the cord that haven't broken; accelerating the rate which it was falling apart. Sitting there, not able to do a thing, all he did was said one word. "Shit."

The last of the cord came undone. For a millisecond he hovered there in the air before following the ball to the earth. As air roared in his ears his mind was trying to process of what happened. Shock had caused it to freeze up making it almost impossible for him to think. Yet, his mouth was able to do one thing on command. It opened up and let out a terror struck scream. He couldn't hear it over the rushing air but if he could, he would imagine that it wasn't a pleasant sound.

Nearer and nearer the ground came seeming too eager to have him crash into it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that there was a loud sound of scattering glass. There were also the screams of pain which he probably won't even be able to do soon enough. The moment he hit the ground he was as good as dead.

About a dozen feet from meeting death, he came to a jerking stop. A hand or something had gripped the collar of his shirt. One would thing after falling so fast that the fabric would rip easily. However, it held, choking the meister as it tightened around his neck. Somewhere in his mind he was telling his head to turn around to see who or what had taken hold of him. But his eyes were glued to the ground that was now slowly rising. Of course the earth did not raise but to his mind it seemed.

A foot off the ground the thing loosen it grip. When his feet touched solid earth his legs buckled. On his knees he shook violently as his hands touched the ground to make sure it wasn't an illusion. For several minutes this was all he could do as the traumatizing fall had left him feeling weak. His mind took these few minutes to relay messages to very part of the body. Asking if any had been harm during that awful fall. All but one of his knee caps were in working if trembling order. Right knee cap was in slight pain from something pocking into it.

As soon as he could make himself move he got onto the left knee and lifted the other one. He quickly spotted the small shard of glass that was piercing his skin. It had easily cut through the pants and a trickle of blood was oozing from the wound. Without much thought he plucked the piece of glass out. For a second he examined it before tossing it to the side.

"I'm alive," he said as he got to his feet. "Shouldn't be but I am." Shaking his head to get rid of the hazy feeling, he scanned the area. "Right now there might be other people who lives are at risk." That wasn't a bad assume to make. The ball may have been huge, but it still was glass. A brittle substance like that dropped from just height would cause the thing to explode. Leaving behind the many shards scattered across the plaza.

Neither the pole nor the Mexican flag could be seen. Pools of blood covered the ground and groans could be heard. The moon was laughing like a manic as black blood gushed from its mouth. All sounds of any type had cease to an eerie silence. It sounded like to him that the party was over.

"Now that what I call destruction," said a voice from behind him. He turned to face the incoming girl with a scowl. Walking into view, she was in the clothes he first saw her in, but she was cover in fresh blood from head to toe. A light blue soul was in her right hand which she was munching on. As she chewed she hummed to herself Mary had a Little Lamb.

They stood there, staring the other down; one was scowling while the other was in oblivious glee. Throwing what left of her meal into her mouth, she swallowed it whole. She grinned as she said, "Hello Cotton Candy Head. You seemed to be a grump tonight." As she came nearer he started to backpedal to keep some space between them. "There nowhere to run," she said, eyes gleaming with ill intend and good humor. "The ape isn't around to interrupt."

As her gaze made direct eye contact he became paralyzed. His heart started to beat against his rib cage as he tried to rip his eyes away from hers. Yet, all he could do was stared into the emerald orbs feeling much like a mouse staring at a snake. "Where were we…? Oh, that's right. You were on the ground about to see if your weapon could hold out or not."

"But I am weaponless," said Crona, thankful that he still had his voice. "It won't be much fun striking down a defenseless toy."

Stopping by a pile of scattered glass, her hand darted in, ignorant of the cuts it was receiving. Her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth as she searched. When she grabbed hold of what she was looking for she shouted, "Got it." By it end, she pulled out a scythe that looked frightening similar to that of Soul in weapon form. "Catch," she said as he tossed it to him.

On her command his hands extended out to caught the pole, the point of the blade only a centimeter away from his face. He wanted to turn the scythe around into attacking position and assault her, but the pole was place in front of him, diagonally. Left foot took a step back to brace him as the girl search another pile of glass. _Move damn it, _he thought in frustration.

"Ready?" she asked as she pulled the onyx blade called Ragnarok from the debris.

"No," he said just to state his opinion.

"To bad," she yelled as she dashed forward, "ready or not, her I come!" She held the blade's hilt with both hands, its point scrape the ground as she aimed to upper cut him. He struggled to break free of his state, but only when she was a foot away was he able to take a step back as she swung the blade. It sliced through the pole as if it was paper. Blood poured out at both openings as the scythe howled in pain.

"Soul," he whispered in disbelief.

A small gasp left his lips as the sword was thrust through his guts. The girl stared straight into his eyes watching the light within them slowly fade. "Whoops," she said as she yanked the sword out. Colorful confetti poured out of the wound as he placed a hand over it. Falling to his knees, he stared at the girl as she giggled up a storm. "Look like I broke my toy." Next thing he knew he was laying on his side, facing the girl. As the world slowly faded into darkness all he could hear was her giggling and a hissing sound coming somewhere behind her. It sounded much like a snake.

Silently screaming, Crona bolted up as he took in deep breathes of air. Sweat drenched the red covers and his hair causing both to stick to his bare skin. Trembling like a leaf, he stared into the dark seeing the outline of items in his rooms. After several seconds he stopped trembling when he realized he was only dreaming. "It was just a dream," he said as he placed a hand onto his forehead.

Mentally, he went through a check list to make sure everything was as they should be. He was in bed with nothing more on than black boxers. Soul was snoring loudly from within his room, not cut in two bleeding to death. There was no party, no girl, no skeletons, no pink pony, and all of those other things. It was just a dream.

Movement at the end of his feet told him that he had waked up his roommate. Pocking her head over his feet, the purple kitten stared at him with yellow eyes. A black witch hat sat on her head which had holes for her ears to stick through. A silver pumpkin shape collar was around her neck.

Jumping over his feet, she walked down his legs to sit herself on his lap. Gazing up at him, she asked, "Is everything alright?"

The meister stared down at the kitten before patting her on the head. "I'm fine Blair," he said, forcing a smile. "It was nothing more than a nightmare."

"Sounded more than a nightmare to me," said the kitten with an uncommon tone of seriousness. "You were tossing and turning half the night."

Sighing, he said "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you awake."

"Don't worry about, I am nocturnal, but this isn't about me. This is the third time in a week you waken up like this." Her tail droop as she said, "This isn't like you. Even when Black*Star nearly killed you with that bear,"- long story, don't ask- ", you wasn't phase one bit. What happen this time that make it so stressful?"

"I honestly have no answer to that," he said as he stared at the alarm clock next to him which was on a wooden stand. He was only guessing but base on the hands it was four in the morning. "Well, I'm up now and doubt I'll get any more sleep." Throwing the covers off, Blair jumped from his lap as cold air sting his skin. Swinging his legs over the bed, he gave his head a good shake before getting up and walking over to the bedroom door. With a switch of a switch his room was bath in light.

Now, his room was a modest place with few things of real value. The bed and the wooden stand sat in the middle of the room. To its left flank pressed up against the white wall was a small dresser. A little way down from the dresser was a closed window with a view of the street down below. Flanking the bed right, a tall bookshelf with six shelves divided it up into two sections. Top half was filled with books while the bottom half was dedicated to knick knacks and other random stuff he collected over the years. A couple of feet away to the south were a large and wide dresser which a large fish tank sat on. The resident of it was a tarantula that was currently hiding in the large log placed at one end of it. The tank's floor was covered by wood chippings.

Opening the door, he said to Blair, "Out."

"Afraid I see how small you are," teased the cat as she left the room.

Without replying, he closed it once she was out of the way. The next few minutes was used to put on his usually outfit. After he was done he head toward the door planning on going to the bathroom. He stopped right before he grabbed the bronze doorknob. Sighing in exasperation, he went over to the bookshelf. Situated between a picture of his family at the beach and a white teddy bear he had since he was five, on the third shelf, was the fedora hat.

He stared at it, wondering why he even was considering it. Every since he came home he wore it every other day. Yesterday he promised himself that the hat was going to stay there. Apparently, it wasn't going to happen. "It's not healthy to have an obsession," he said as he placed the hat on his head. With that done he headed toward the door again, feeling that today wasn't going to be a kind one.

* * *

><p>Maka: *Nudging Soul shoulder with her foot.* Well, whatever they used to drug him it worked. *Turning to the readers.* Hope none of you were too lost with what Mulleb was doing. As always we hope you enjoy the read, but since no one review last chapter and only one person the last. I do believe a deal have been broken. In the first chapter of this story he stated plainly. If you like him to continue than give your thoughts on the chapter. Don't worry, he had already determine that at the minimum three people have to speak up. So, please review; good criticism, flames, and comments in general are welcome.<p>

Soul: *Groaning.*

Maka: Better take him home. To the readers, have a good day.


	9. Please read

**Petition**

This is one of many petitions. Add your name to this and any others you find. Add your name to this big petition (www. change petitions /fanfiction- net- stop- the- destruction- of- fanfiction- net#). The administrators of are as of June 4th going to be taking down Fics that have lemons or have extreme violence. Now I don't know about you but I think thats stupid. There are many wonderful fics that only have one or two lemons in them yet the plot itself is awesome! You can't just take down a 100,000 word fic just because it has a lemon in a chapter that is only 1000 words long. Now I urge you all to read the petition below, sign it, and repost this to your own fics. Hopefully if we make enough noise everything will return to normal. Thank you.

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be losing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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	10. Chapter 9

Daisy: *Opens two pizzas boxes.* One large Canadian pizza and one large pepperoni like you guys ask. *Took a slice of Canadian pizza and start eating.*

Maka: *Took a pepperoni slice.* When you can, can you thanks Mulleb. He's the only guy I know who treats us.

Daisy: *Shrugs.* You'll probably won't saying that at the end of this chapter.

Maka: Why?

Black*Star: *While chewing, he took a look at the script. For a moment he stare, but break out laughing.*

Soul: *Vocalize everyone thought.* What so funny? *Black*Star pointed at the place he reading, still laughing. Soul took a look. Glancing between Maka and the script, he failed miserably to stifle laughter.*

Maka: *A little peeve.* What?

Daisy: Read the story and found out. Oh, and enjoy.

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine<p>

Hawaii, the island- more commonly called the Big Island to avoid confusion- was an intriguing sight to see from the air. All four sides were lush with plants, but the northeast portion was richest in life. However, when going into the inferior of the island all one can see was volcanic rocks. Mauna Kea and Mauna Loa were easiest to see for landmarks, but there was The Great Crack which resemble that of a long, black, ugly scar. In places there were signs of human inhabitants in form of towns and roads. People and vehicles looked like ants as they rushed about with their daily lives.

To Medusa they might as will be insects for her own amusement. Hovering a couple hundred yards in the air on her broomstick, she was making a quick mental map of the island. Dressed in a short sleeve, white shirt and tan cargo pants. She enjoyed bathing in the huffing sun heat. Whenever she came to a tropical region she would pause for a moment to just to relish the warmth. Sadly, she couldn't do that today for when she finished she always felt a little drunk.

Being drunk when she was about to meet an old grudge holding friend who was prone to anger was a bad idea. At least she thinks she knew where the woman was. After a little mishap that taken place more than a century and a half ago she had lost contact with the friend. Until recently there hadn't been a use for her. For several years now she had been using past knowledge to follow leads to pinpoint her. After a few fruitless searches that led to dead ends she believed that this island was the current host of the witch.

"Always had a thing for hotspots," she muttered. She knew that somewhere within one of the active volcanoes was a castle protected by molten lava. Where else on an island made from fire would yield the best defense? Add to the fact that shield volcanoes aren't going to blow half of its top off when it erupt. All a spell caster would need was the proper spell to form an impenetrable fortress which no one knew about.

That's the exact problem the witch's faced. Of the five volcanoes she narrowed the search down to three. Kohala was extinct and Kilauea was too active. Mauna Kea, Hualalai, and Mauna Loa were the most suitable of the five for her friend to live in. If her memory wasn't false than bigger was better since the friend likes her home to be spacious. The bigger the volcano the more earth she could convert into her home without being seen.

Making Mauna Kea, the largest volcano on the island, the perfect place for her to reside in. "Hope her temper had cool down over the last hundreds years," she said absentmindedly. On a silent command the broom descended downward. As she neared the island the temperature slowly raised. Over the tree tops the humidity increase greatly, but she paid it no mind. Noises of the tropical jungle made her body involuntary twitch.

The snakes within her can sense the many life forms down below. No wonder why the state was determined to keep any type of serpent off its land. Unknown to most people that there are several snakes on or near the island. However, two of them are kept under careful watch of pet owners while the other two were harmless. If the natives could they would keep it that way. Due to the fact that she was a container of several aggressive snake species that could wreak havoc on the ecosystem. She was hoping this would help bring her friend out of hiding.

As she went up the mountain's side trees became fewer and grasslands covered the slope. After a little while the green give away to a barren land scrape of gray and black. The sounds of life were replaced by the whispering wind. As she ascended the steep slopes- steeper compare to its neighboring volcanoes- she spotted tourists here and there. She couldn't care last if their lives were put at risk when she confronted her friend. However, some of those who had integrated with human society tended to form kinship with them. She would discourage them to continue the climb by sending one of her larger snakes on them. They were given strict order not to kill, only scare. They did just that. Once the humans saw the mammoth serpents they had no quarrel with going downhill.

At some point the air started to cool down. If she planned on going up to the summit she would had brought along heavier clothing. The volcano's summit was above tree line and during the winter it was one of the few places on this island where snow can be found. However, she came to a stop well before she reached the tree line.

The broomstick gently set her down on the rocky ground which was cold to her bare feet. As she surveyed the area the broomstick flew back up to heights that would keep it out of harm way. If she knew her friend she knew that things were about to turn deadly if her guess was right. All there were around her were rocks. In spots there was lichen and a withered, but living tree defying the harsh environment it's called home.

But there was nothing of any value that can be harm. Taking in a deep breath through the nose, the witch took in any scent around her. Except for the faint smell of the sea breeze with a touch of jungle it was as pure as air can get. "Pele," she shouted, her voice amplified by magic to be heard a mile radius. "It is me, Medusa. I have come to pay you a visit."

Nothing but silence so quiet that it was a little overbearing answered her. Looking to her right arm, she examined the tattoo that had been there for centuries. As if implanted into her skin yesterday, the black ink was shaped into ovals of a varied of sizes. It started with a triangular tail at her wrist, coil around her arm, and stop with a roughly shape snake head over her deltoid. There was an exact same copy on the other arm.

"It would be a shame if one of my snakes got loose," she said, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. "They haven't been fed in days. Do you mind if I let them out to feed? I'm sure this island can spare a few more animals." The breeze picked up a bit, but that was from natural causes. "No one home," she said as she peered up to look for her broomstick. _I didn't really expect to found her on the first try._

For some reason she decided to sniff the air. A puzzled look covered her face as she sniff some more. _Sulfur, _she thought. It was faint, but never the less something smelled like rotten eggs. _But this volcano hadn't been active in years. Unless... _Eyes opening wide, she leapt back several feet just in time. If she had been a second too slow she would had been died without knowing what hit her.

A pillar of lava shot out of the ground, going high into the air before the molten rock came tumbling down. The witch leapt several more time as more lava spewed out as if it was under high pressure. "You were always the one who love to make an appearance," said the witch once the geysers of lava stopped appearing.

In all there were four geysers blowing out their deadly contents. As the lava flowed or dropped to the earth everything it touched melted away. One loud continuous hiss filled the air as the lava rapidly cooled off. One by one the geysers shrunk back into the earth leaving the molten rock in an area of roughly the size of a small house.

As the last of the geysers died off a woman was standing in the middle of it. Lava slid down light brown skin as eyes colored that of fire glared at witch. Fleshly lips were pulled into a snare. Long bright reddish-orange hair cascaded in waves around her shoulders. Her good size bosom was placed into a red sport bra. Light blue jeans were tucked into brown army boots. Around her neck were two charms hang by a leather string, one of them was a piece of wood curved into a boar head while the other was a red Pua Aloalo.

"Hello Pele," said Medusa, putting on a friendly smile. "You sure have adapted to the changing time."

The glare stayed as the woman rapidly said, "Boar-swine, boar-swine, boar-swine." Making a fist with her right hand she pulled it back over her shoulder. "Earth boar charge," she yelled as she smashed the fist into the earth. A large boar made out of granite shot out of the ground. Landing several feet from its summoner, it sharpen it tucks by goring the ground.

"Not even going to say a hello," asked Medusa as the smiled faded into a neutral expression. Without a word, the red head pointed a finger at her. Squealing loudly, the boar lifted up its front legs, kicking the air. Than it dashed forward its granite eyes locked onto the witch in front of it. "Vector plate," she said, stoically. A large black arrow pointing to the east materialized under her feet. Its edges glow a bright purple as she crouched down.

It propelled the witch several yards to another plate pointed straight up. Twisting her body, her feet planted themselves into the main body of the arrow. Soon enough she was sent skyward just in time to watch the boar's demise. Due to its own ignorance of the vector plate properties and inability to stop in time it went right over it. It was surely was shock when it was lifted several inches off the ground and then tossed into the other plate. It let out a squeal of fright when it was sent flying.

But unlike the witch, it didn't have a broomstick that will rush underneath to catch it. So it fall back down and scattered on impact, sending rock shards and dust flying. Smirking, the witch drove her broom so it was hovering over the remains of the boar. "Please, darling," she said, lovingly, earning her an icy glare from the red head. "For the goddess of volcanoes and fire you can do so much better than that."

"Be gone snake," she growled before slamming the palm of her hand into the ground. "Magma storm!" The earth visibly shook, causing stones to clatter as some are shaken loose. Bursting forth, forming a circle around the goddess, lava swirled upward racing toward Medusa in one big funnel.

"Three words...," said the witch as she evaded the attacked by going up. The lava rushed on by missing its target. Gravity pulled it down into an arch, causing it to drill a circle in the earth. The lava itself went several dozen feet deep, but when the attack was done the lava had filled most of the hole up. "...That's a start."

Paying her no mind, the goddess whispered under her breath. "What did you say," said Medusa, for she saw her lips move. "Better speak up for I can't hear you."

"Go to hell," she shouted as a wave of lava engulfed her legs. It propelled her up into the air straight at Medusa. Placing her hands into the lava, both were covered with molten rock. Several dozen feet from the ground she shot from the wave and pulled back a fist. "Volcanic punch!" Several feet from the witch she thrust her fist forward, sending large globs of lava at her.

But those globs solidified much too quickly than it should be possible. Decent size rocks nearly pelted the witch, one of them clipped her shoulder. Not yet done, the goddess reached out for the broomstick and grabbed it with the hand still covered with lava. Needless to say, the wood ignited almost instantaneously.

"Is that really necessary?" asked the witch as she got onto her feet.

"Let see how smug you are without your broom," said Pele with a smirk. Letting go, she fall, but a column of magma rushed up to cushion her fall. Not taking much time to think about it the witch jumped, feet first. As she went downward the broom was consume by the flames and quickly turned to ashes which were blown away in the wind.

Without a word, she extended her left arm downward, diagonally. The head of the snake of her tattoo went under her armpit and slithered down her arm. Out from her hand a giant brown snake head with a body of unconnected ovals catch its master. Landing in a crouch, Medusa rode the magical serpent down to the earth.

The snake's body skidded across the ground throwing up a cloud of dust. As it landed it twisted around so it could face the attacker of its master. Yellow slit eyes started down the goddess who was still descending. "Snakes," hissed the goddess as her feet met earth. "I hate every last one of them, especially those who stabbed me in the back."

"Still upset of what happen so long ago," said Medusa in a bored tone. "It had been a couple centuries now. How can you still be mad over a little thing like that?"

"Little thing," growled the goddess. Stomping her foot into the ground, the earth shake once more. Without being told the snake dashed forth, it massive form moving faster than any serpent its size had any right to be. A column of lava shot up right in front of it. Evading the column with ease, it weaved it way through a field of geysers, seeming to know where each geyser would shot up.

"Still for brute force," noted Medusa as they neared the goddess. "That haven't changed over the years." Off to the snake right, a large spike of rock rocketed out of the ground while at the same time another geyser went off to it left. Confused by the two threats the snake incline to turn away from the super heated rock. Impaling itself on the spike that buried deeply into it magical body. It hiss sharply as violet sparks of magic flew, the spike running down it's flank.

Grimacing, the witch leapt forward and twisted her body around. As she extended an arm out, she shouted, "That was low of you." Seeing the extended limb, the snake rushed toward it. Within seconds it had shrunk in size, turning back into it original form as it slithered up her arm to retake its former position.

As soon as her feet touch the ground she moved her head slightly to the left. A fist of fire glazed her ear, slightly scorching it and ignited a few strands of hair. "Direct combat had never been my thing," she stated as the fist was pulled back. On the ball of her heel she spun around while bringing the other leg up. The heel of her other foot slammed into the goddess's check.

Backpedaling, she grunted, the fire of hatred in her eyes intensified. Coming to a stop, she planted her right foot back while the left foot was place slightly to the left of it. Both hands were balled up and burning within blue flames. The look that Medusa received could have slaughtered her three times over.

"Don't enjoy close combat," she yelled as she rushed forward. A fist was launch, aimed for the lower abdomen. With a neutral expression, Medusa rolled with the blow with the help of the snakes in her body. That monotonous look on the witch's face send the goddess into a fury that was beyond the word furious. A barrage of fists rained down on the witch which none made contact. She would evaded each blow with nothing more than a little of her shirt charred.

"Don't enjoy close combat!" A hundred and some more years of stewing angry, resentment, and denial exploded from her heart. As her voice and fury grew the volcano started to mimic her emotions. The earth trembled as lava spewed out. Parts of the mountain started to swift and moan as long closed off vents reopen. Black sooty smoke started to appear and a sound that was much like that of a steaming teapot could be heard.

Down below in the towns tourist and native alike stop what they were doing to stare in awe at the volcano. After thousands of years of being dormant the sudden change in mood was a show stopper. And the way it was acting it seemed as if it might literally pop its top. As people watch to see what would happened a native nervously joked that Pele was in a rage about something. He doesn't know how right he was.

Back with our fighters Medusa had split her attention between the goddess and the volcano. As much as she would love to see an eruption up close this was, by anyone definition, too close. Since her broomstick was destroyed there was no way of a hasty retreat. She was going to have to somehow calm the goddess down. When it come to rallying someone up she just needed a little information and said person would be crying for a severed head. Calming somebody down was a different story all together.

But it won't happen until Pele gave Medusa a big piece of her mind. "How about the time when_ we_ invaded Mabaa's castle when I was strongly against? There is neither man nor beast that had that look of glee when you murder those guards. I always knew that you were a little more blood thirsty than the average witch, but the death you brought." She shuddered but never let up. "Then I foolishly listened to you and destroy the bodies with lava. I should have never turned my back if I knew you would somehow save evidence to incriminate me."

_Her attacks are becoming sloppy_, noted the witch. _Face is also turning red, but I don't know if it is because of angry or lack of oxygen. Perspiration is all over her face, torso, and arms. If she was thinking straight she could end this with little work. _

Nothing short of collapsing from exhaustion could make the goddess rethink her actions. "How could you turn on me?" asked the goddess, more to herself than to Medusa. Tears started to pool in her eyes. "Best friends," she said with a rueful chuckle. "Stealing sweets, scaring humans, messing with boy's hearts, sharing of secrets, and going on idiotic adventures... What happen to that girl I knew? That was my friend."

For once in this conflict a small amount of remorse had sneak it way into Medusa's cold heart. She tried to repress old memories, but they had resurface. She had known the goddess since what a normal human would consider five. For centuries the two had grew up with the other both having parents who were inadequate.

Truthfully, the two were polar opposites. Pele was a passionate woman who can be easily influence by her emotions. Medusa, cold as ice, would first calculate a person's torment with a deadly precision before throwing the first punch. However, both were strong willed and could work well with the other. Like any witch they had a thirst for destruction, but the goddess had taken a more productive way about it.

One of Medusa earliest, vivid memories was when the goddess had caused her first eruption. She did it to impress her parents by bringing death onto a human city. It wasn't the blow-off-half-of- the- mountain-side-off type of eruption but there was plenty of smoke, flying debris, and spewing of lava. At first Pele was proud of what she had done for she had managed to earn some praise, but soon came to realize that she destroyed more than the city.

While not a fan of humans at the time she was in love with nature which in this case was in the form of a forest. For the village to be wipe out the forest got clear cut. In a rare moment, her mother made an effort to comfort her daughter. She explained one of the reasons why the world needed witches was to keep humans in check and nature healthy. Of course, to a young child's mind this doesn't make sense, but she was told to wait about fifty years- to a witch it wasn't that long of a wait- and see how the area had change. Fifty years later, the child would be surprise to found that not only a new forest had begun. It was well on its way to become the natural beauty that it was before the eruption.

Taking this to heart, the goddess would justified her actions of sending entire islands into the sea, turning mountains into hills, and burying cities in ash by thinking that in the long run it would make the natural world a better place. Maybe she had a point, but this way of thinking was foreign to the witch. To her just getting a thrill for the sake of it was enough. These two conflicting ideologies were one of the reasons they grew apart.

"You never did tell me what was so important that it was worth tossing me to the dogs." Her voice started to crackle. "As soon we got into Mabaa's room one of your damn snakes knocked me out. When I came to I found myself trap in a cage while you were explaining to that fool on how you figure out how I was going to stole some magic tool." A single tear break away from the pool, sliding down her cheek and evaporated when it hit the ground. "Never in my life had I felt so wrong, so betrayed."

Chuckling bitterly, for the first time she notice her surroundings. Medusa had been leading her around gaps that spewed out lava. The earth shuddered violently as the two danced and it surprise her that they stayed on their feet. A toxic cloud of smoke overhead threatened to engulf her and for miles around all form of life. It reminded her so much of that day.

"Never in my life did a fury that could put fear into a god had overcome me." She could feel that same angry flow away. For whatever reason she just couldn't keep a hold on that raw anger. Though, she might have a righteous reason to do so the willingness to kill was fading away. Anger ill spent.

Medusa knew it as well. The goddess wasn't even putting any effort into the punches. Both fists were lightly smoking a dim, gray cloud. Along with those flames the volcano hissy fit was coming to an end. The trembling had subsided to a minor vibration that few would notice. Lava had stopped flowing and wispy gray smoke escaped from the vents.

Catching a fist, the flesh of Medusa's hand cried for her to let go. It felt as she had just grabbed a brick fresh from the heart of a hearth. However, she displayed none of the pain as she stared into the eyes of her former friend. The goddess tried to break eye contact,tried to move, but that stared hold her in place.

"Tambora," whispered the goddess "was the worst eruption I had caused. May not compare to what will happen at Yellowstone, but you should had died. Along with the thousands of human lives that followed it. I can understand how the time witch got away, but you..." For a moment, she was lost for words. "You always had a talent of miraculous surviving the impossible."

A smug grin cracked onto the witch's face. "To give due credit you did left me badly burnt."

"Really," she said as a small smile couldn't help but show itself. "How badly?"

"Remember that time when that boy got a little too friendly with you," she said with a chuckle.

"Of course I do. Only thing that wasn't burnt to a crisp was his pretty little nose. Though, if that happen to you I'm surprise you're still breathing much less standing."

Her free hand went to her face, finger tips brushing a cheek. "I'll admit it did take several decades, tons of magic, and many of the best doctor I could found at the time to regain my body former glory."

"Is one of the reasons you keep serpents in your bodies is so they can act as your muscles?" asked the goddess, inquisitively. "Those things do take up space last I check."

"Maybe," she said, letting go of the fist. Examining her seared palm, Medusa allowed the goddess to regain movement. She stumbling a little but made no move to attack the witch. "But since you didn't kill me that would mean I might one day tell you the truth."

Using the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her eyes, the goddess said, "Don't think for one moment I letting you off the hook. As soon I see any sign of backstabbing I'll fried your ass. However, something tells me you're not here to mend our friendship." Crossing her arms below her breast, she asked, "What do you want out of me?"

"A favor," she said as she looked up.

"Does it have to do something with Jack Frost and the council? Don't look at me like that. You're not the only witch who got eyes and ears halfway across the globe."

"If I say that I'm hoping to cause a rebellion that would oust both Mabaa and Death from their throne would you think me mad?"

Laughing almost hysterically, she sat down and crossed her legs. "Betray too many people and one of these days that brain won't be able to save you. So is that why you went to the old man? Start with the gullible fool and work your way up. Look, as much I would love to see Mabaa and Death put in their place. Me and the other islander witches see no need to kill either of them. If one of them even tries to make a move on us our brothers and sisters of the sea could use some chum for their fishes."

Rolling her eyes, Medusa said, "You sure are confident."

"Hell yeah," she shouted. "No man or so called god can come near our islands without our say so."

"And yet you had failed to keep the white man at bay," said Medusa as she gestured to the towns. That got another glare from the goddess. "You could have fooled me," she said, sarcastically.

"Okay, I'll admit every since they figured how the seas works and learn to fly we haven't been doing that great of a job. But I dare say if we put our mind to it we could send one of their might fleets to the sea floor with no problem."

"Than what keep you from giving aid to a just cause?"

"Death would be all over us the moment we even think of making an army! Not since that damn Kishin killed so many of the eastern witches, sorceress, and enchanters have we gather just a force that will be needed to take on the witch queen. Hell, I'm still surprise that Death allows us to gather every year just to plan out next year activities."

"Than why not give our good friend Death something to keep him preoccupy?" A rising of an eyebrow and a faint frown asked to explain her statement. "You do remember that the Kishin is the embodiment of fear and madness?" That got her a nod. "By breaking 'Lord' Death's rule of not eating human's souls. Who, last I check, was against anything that messed up his precious order."

A small smile graced Pele's face as she comprehends where Medusa was going with this. "You crazy bitch, I always knew you had a thrill for dangerous things but this." Shaking her head, she chuckled as she said, "To top it off you still as heartless as ever."

"And you're still the passionate fool who would pick a fight even if the odds were less than desirable," said she with a devilish smile. "That is, if aiming to kill was your propose in the first place."

"Let say I'm willing to consider," said the goddess as she stood up, not missing the meaning in that last sentence. "What make you think talking to me and the old man will do? If you knew anything about the council- I'll bet an arm and leg you already know- that you need at less two-third of the other thirteen to agree to take any form of action."

"Really," said the witch as a hand reach up to the long strand of braided hair. As she twirled it, she said, "I would think that three of those thirteen would be enough to influence the others to put their lots in. Add to the fact that those three are known to have much power, territory, and resources..."

"Plan on talking to the light bulb and Mother," said the goddess as she uncrossed her arms.

"Of course," said Medusa, "why not?"

"If you can convince one of them to join and get that Kishin back into his skin. Then maybe we can persuade the council into making progress for once." Extending out a hand, she stared Medusa in the eyes. "Don't know if we'll very be friends again, but you always had been a good partner. As much I hate to admit it it's about time something is done about Mabaa. Damn crone let Death walk all over us for far too long."

Grabbing the hand, they shook on it as Medusa said, "Than it is settled. Give me at least five months and we'll have everything we need."

"Five months," mocked the goddess as their hands break apart, "thought you'll only give me a day of warning like last time. Daughter's ribs putting things behind schedule?" She didn't bother to remark on that as she turned her back. "I can get you a ride back to the main land, free of charge," she said as she followed the witch. "Have to hang around for a few days since they won't be back till Wednesday, but since I destroy your broomstick it the less I can do."

"Got anywhere else to stay beside the insides of a volcano?"

"Have a cottage down at the base of the mountain I use when I have visitors. Haven't been use for several years now, but it should work. Out of curiosity, what will you do once the Kishin is free? We can't have that madman running around like he owns the planet."

"Don't worry," she said as a purple, magical, fork tongue tasted the air. "That a problem we'll deal with when it comes.

Back in Medusa's apartment in New York City Maka and Free were in the kitchen sitting at the table. They were sitting across from the other both focusing on the chessboard in front of them. A woman dressed in a black, white pock-a-dots dress was watching T.V. Her orange witch hat was placed by the chair where some of the trash was clear away. The house was cleaner now since they had been hanging around it for a month. There still were pieces of random junk lying about, but if someone walked in on them they wouldn't assume that they were slobs.

Currently, Maka was studying the chessboard intensely so she can make her next move. Though, how things were going she didn't need to think too hard. Well advance into the game chess pieces were scattered all over the board. However, most of the figures were white pieces- Maka's- while a good many of the black pieces- Free's- were next to the girl to her right. The werewolf had managed during the early part of the game to snatch a few of the whites, but soon found himself into a too familiar, tight situation.

To those who knew the girl to think that she even understands, much less was a whiz at chess, would be bewildering. It all began with the fact that the girl always loved playing board games. At the young age of five she had somehow eluded her mother's sight and stumble upon a group of children playing slides and ladders. The kids let her played a few rounds and she was hooked.

Later on, whenever she could, she would steal a new board game to try out. Now, Medusa usually did her best to manipulate the girl. One way of doing this was to isolate her from other people. For some time she had only two people she was able to play with. More often than not Ragnarok was willing to play for there was little else they could do. But he had the tendency to cheat and it get a little tiring to get him to play fairly.

Medusa actually was more than willing to play as long as the game involved strategy. Due to the fact she had to get the game herself and a bit of luck. Chess become the game that the two would play most of the time.

As time went on chess become the game Maka would spend a good chunk of her free time on. This was because she was determined to beat her mother for the witch always played to win. Hundreds of years of plotting and scheming do have it benefits. Being able to predict your opponent next three moves before him or her even think about it is one of them. In a game of chess this ability was very useful.

Though, a girl who had only lived barely a friction of her own life wasn't much of an opponent to being with. After winning each game she would never fail to mention the mistakes her daughter made. Each error was replayed and the witch would say her lack of experience rather than intelligence was her downfall.

One thing that the witch came to learned that her adoptive daughter does have brain buried under all that madness. Learning from her past mistakes, Maka tried her best to formulate complicated strategies that were already known. But to do it by herself without someone teaching it would baffled even the greatest of chess players. However, the witch had always found a way to counter each new maneuver on the spot. Sometime games would be so closed that only one little error or one well placed piece on the witch's part kept her from victory. Her mother never did complement her about anything she had done right.

One day, when the girl was twelve, in the closest match they had played. Medusa found herself checkmated by a queen and a rook. It happened so suddenly that it had stunned her silence when the girl loudly and mirthfully yelled, "Checkmate!" To this day that was probably one of the girl's fondest memories of her mother. There was the obvious reason of finally beating her, but that was secondary to her reaction.

After the shock worn off, a smile that proclaimed pride went from ear to ear. "Finally managed to beat me," she said with a chuckle. To the daughter surprise, she reached over the table to the squeeze her hand affectionately. "Let see if that wasn't just a fluke." Next game Maka won a bit quicker than the first, but the third match her mother sneak a victory away. But at that moment the heartless woman she knew most of her life showed some general affection. As much as she hated to admit it. She enjoyed it.

Not since then can she recalled another moment where she was even remotely was like that. They stilled played chess and the wins were more or less equaled out. Always would acknowledged the win, but the witch would do nothing more. But deep down Maka both despise and hope she would show that same affection.

As for now she would have to settle with beating Free for the utmost time. As said early they were well advance into the game. During the early part of the game, the werewolf did have a few minor victories by catching a few important pieces. Though, all of the pieces he catcher was to set him into a trap which he sprung wonderfully.

A rook, knight, and several pawns were his prizes. However, he had only a king, a couple of pawns, a rook, and both knights either stuck in place or any move could be its last. His options were limited to the girl's next move. "Checkmate," she said in a bored tone as she moved a bishop into place.

"What?" he said as he examined the board. His king hadn't moved the entire game and by now his strategy was to prevent her from taking it, hoping she would slip up. The chess piece was cornered by two bishops and a queen. No matter how he moved he couldn't escape. Sighing, he use a finger to tip it over as he said, "You win again. Best thirty-six out of thirty-nine."

"We had been doing this for hours," she whined. Glancing toward the living room, she spotted a green-yellow tennis ball sitting by the snake's tank. A little too quickly she stood up, pain flared in her chest. She bit the lower lip as she cursed the injury that left her stranded in this house for over a month.

Oh, she loathed the inactivity she endured. For the first week all she could do was lay in her bed in her room. Time was divided from staring into her pillow to going into a dreamlike state. She lost count how many time she swayed from reality to that of her mind. Ragnarok and her caretakers- Free and the witch sitting in the chair called Eruka- tried to dim the boredom some, but didn't success much until she got back on her feet. The rest of the month was spent playing games and going outside to breath in fresh air. She might be the first person to die of boredom-or go crazy from claustrophobia, whatever came first- if she doesn't get off this rooftop.

Rushing over to the tank, she picked up the ball and shouted, "Let play fetch!" She tossed it over to the werewolf.

Free raise his single eyebrow as he caught the ball. "If I didn't know better I think you think me as a dog."

"I can be the dog," she exclaimed as she got on all four. Much like a canine she walked up to the werewolf and sat on her behind. Her tongue hung out as she panted a bit.

"Maka," said Free, a little weirded out. The girl got onto her feet in a crouch while putting her bent wrist, hands balled up, in front of her face. Sorrowful eyes widen into two huge orbs as a small whimper escape her lips. "No fair," he said, using an arm to block out the sight. He kept the arm there for several seconds before lowering it. She was still at it and had lowered her hands to show a quivering lip. "Alright," he said, putting a hand up in defeat. "Give me a moment and I'll be outside."

With a quick yip Maka sprung back onto all four, running toward the door. Sighing, the werewolf got to his feet with a shake of his head. "If Medusa call us and see her like this," Free shouted to Eruka, "Tell her that it wasn't my idea."

Eruka glanced over to the door to see the girl pawing at it. "Just make sure the mutt pulled down her underwear first before using the bathroom." Said mutt stopped her pawing long enough to vocalize a low growl at the witch. Once, when she was four, Medusa was forced to take her along to one of the witch gathering. There was a little incident where she badly needed to use the bathroom. She was standing right by the frog witch and well... Let just say that soiled boots and a lasting animosity was made.

Being wise enough not to comment, Free opened the door. Without a second thought Maka rushed out. She went several yards before stopping in front of a hole. She peered into it to see if anything was there. All of the flowers had died off, but if she was lucky there would be a bird that would fly out or a mammal that would scamper into the shadows. To her disappointment there wasn't any.

"Do you want to play or not?" asked Free. The girl twirled around and wagged her butt in the air. The werewolf guessed that she was wagging her tail. Pulling his arm back, he looked the area over. He wanted to be careful not to throw the ball somewhere that would bring harm to the girl. It wouldn't surprise him if he tossed the ball over the edge that she would jump after it.

Both buildings were about leveled with theirs and seemed to be in better shape. "Fetch," he yelled, heaving the ball at the building to his right. The moment it left his hand Maka dashed after it. Due to the fact that the girl was human there was no way she could keep pace with the ball. However, she was reasonable fast on all four and leap over the foot wide gap with ease.

The ball bounced once over a square metal vent and off another. Somehow the girl managed to pin it down under her right hand. Knowing better than trying to place the ball into her mouth, she stood up and turned toward the werewolf. With a bark she threw it back. Her aim was a little off, but Free was able to reach over his left shoulder to catch it. He waited for the girl to return in front of him. As before, she was on all four with her tongue hanging out.

For another fifteenth minutes this went on without interruption. "Good morning freaks," shouted Ragnarok, popping out from his meister's back. He was greeted by the tennis ball pelting him in the forehead. "What the hell!" Looking about for the offender, he found his meister running after the ball in her unusual state while Free looked to the skies, avoiding the weapon's stare. "What have you done to my meister?" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the werewolf.

"It was her idea, not mine."

"He's right," said Maka as she grabbed the ball before it went over the edge. "I begged him to play." With that said she threw the ball back to Free and reassumed her role.

"Don't encourage her," said Ragnarok right before the ball was toss, again. "This behavior is completely inappropriate."

"You're only saying that because your hunger and irradiated," said the girl as she ran.

"Still," shouted the weapon, "the Kishin of_ humans_ shouldn't be acting like a mutt." All he got was a bark. "Forget it. Tell me when the bitch gets her act back together." Back in his meister's bloodstream he pondered over his choices. Either force the girl into getting him food or wait for her to stop playing her game. Since she was more likely to fight him than comply, he would have to stay there for who know how long.

Back with Eurka she was still in the chair watching some soap opera. She wasn't really paying attention to it, but between this garbage and having to watch the girl. Garbage seemed much more attractive. At less she was able to zone out in peace.

_Eurka, _shouted Medusa's voice within her head. Jumping an inch, the witch shook her head in irradiation. Mentally sighing, she wondered if she ever be free of this snake. Ever since the witch had implanted the serpents into her body she had become her lackey.

"Do you have to be so loud Lady Medusa," she said, the last two words acidic to her tongue.

_I need to talk to my daughter at once. _

"Give me a moment," she said, standing up. "She is outside playing fetch with Free."

_Free is degrading himself?_

"Not exactly."

Several seconds later, through Eurka's eyes the snakes showed Medusa what the frog witch meant. Maka was still at it and was showing no signs of stopping. The werewolf had a grin on his face as he watched the girl come running back. _Do you two have any dignity? _asked Medusa, monotonously. Hearing her voice in their heads, Free stopped in mid-throw while the girl stared at Eurka.

Getting to her feet, the girl said harshly, "Good afternoon, mother. What do you want?"

_I believe your ribs had healed properly. _

"Still a bit sore, but everything is in place," she said, turning head to break eye contact. "Not like you care."

_Base on what I just saw they aren't hindering you performance. _There was a brief pause. _It's about time to deal with a problem. In Sasebo, Japan there is an American naval officer who had been persecuting a few witches and warlocks that are better alive than dead. I want him taken care of. _

"How high up the rank is this guy?"

_He's_ _nothing more than a meager, upright captain. This is solely a stealth mission. If you can snack on a few souls, fine, but the man by the name of Captain Lome Qewo is your target. His ship is the U.S.S Alabama _

"Yeah, yeah," she said as she turned her back and headed straight to the roof's edge. "Found the ship and kill the guy without being capture." Glancing to her back, she said, "Don't think we very went after a navy man. His soul is probably going to be saltier than the average."

"A soul is a soul," replied the demon, "but if we're going to Japan we better be getting some sushi for our troubles."

"Just make sure the good captain is killed," said Medusa, talking as she walked down a path that cut through the jungle. To Pele it seemed she was talking to herself, but she had experience the woman strange form of telepathy. Blinking, the witch said, "It is done." Turning to the goddess, she commented, "This man must be a pain if you asked me to send her after him."

"Trust me, if he somehow catch whiff that the sea witches and warlocks are doing anything out of the ordinary. He'll be a thorn in our feet and hands."

"Sending a kishin to devour his soul is a little extreme, but I can't say I'm complaining." Practically staring, she asked, "Are you sure you have no idea where the other two are?"

Sighing, she said, "Don't have the slightest clue. Expect for their general realm of control I can't say where either will be." Wrapping an arm around Medusa's shoulders, she added with a grin, "Relax. There several days until the boat arrive. Go to the beach, meet a guy, and have some fun. A little vacation time won't kill you."

Medusa rolled her eyes, but put on a lazy grin. Maybe she'll do that or at less explore the island. It was better than being cooped up in a small building when she doesn't have to. So they headed downhill like two good old friends, one of them humming while the other stared off into space, thinking.

* * *

><p>Maka: *Half her face was beet red from both anger and embarrassment as everyone, save Crona, were laughing their asses off.* Why do I get the feeling Mulleb is having a field day with me?<p>

Daisy: Trust me, Mulleb is enjoying every moment he get to write about crazy Maka. She just a fun character to write for.

Maka: Can you call me something else than crazy Maka? Anything will do.

Daisy: If you want we can do that, but what else can we call her. She nuts!

Crona: Shouldn't we talk about this later. Away from the viewers.

Maka: Yes please. We hope that you enjoy the story. As always please review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome.

Daisy: Have a good day!


	11. Chapter 10

Mulleb: Hello, it been a little while haven't it, I think. No sideshow today for everyone out on vacation and I plan on disappearing as well soon enough. Plan on camping for a week and than travel around for some time. Not going to how a lot of time typing so not sure when my next update will be. Though, I will get it done as soon as possible. Hope everyone have a good summer and enjoy the read. Oh, and please review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome.

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><p>Chapter Ten<p>

Sasebo, Japan was what most people would consider an average city. Once nothing more than a remote fishing village on one of Japan's smaller islands. It owns its existence to the navy when the area was chosen for the construction of a naval base. Due to it deep waters, protection from the sea, and position from China and Korea the area was the ideal spot. For some time the base was an important facility for the Japanese Navy until the country was defeated in World War II. Its importance over the years had degraded some for most of the facility had been shut down. However, portions of it were still in use by the United States Navy and Japan Maritime Self-Defense force and NATO had used it for staging operations from time to time.

Currently, a ship of a dying breed stood proudly in the harbor as a steady rain pattered against her iron hull. Weighing in several hundred tons, the battleship presented its four huge batteries to port. Smaller turrets and guns, spread all over the ship, were being attended to by her dedicated crew. Even if it was doubtful any enemies were about they drilled as if the ship was under attack. All of the crew was dressed in ponchos and raincoats colored a light gray. As they manned the guns, cleared the docks, and all of those things one must do to prepare for battle.

The captain of the ship watched them all from the brigade. Dressed in dark blue jacket, pants, and black shoes he stood a little way from the controls, looking out the window. An old gent with skin tanned a light brown. Most of his hair was cut to the scalp, but there was a tuft of short, well kept spot on top of his head. Wrinkles creased deeply into his skin and dark blue eyes showed a faint light of what once could be called life. Though he stood tall something about his stance just said he was wary. In general, he just looked old compare to the younger man scattered around him.

Standing right behind him was a bleach blonde kid and a girl who haven't spoken once since they got here. The girl wore a yellow poncho while the boy had a red rain cap and coat. They arrive several minutes earlier; Treou stated who they were while both of them shook the captain's hand. After that they spent several moments in silence, the captain withdrawing into his own little world.

Feeling the need to get things started, Treou said, "Captain, with all due respect we don't want to believe there is a kishin among your ranks. Taking a soul of a man who served his country isn't what I call a pleasure." Lome nodded his head without taking his eyes away from the window. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the silhouettes of the city's buildings off in the distance. "Can't promise you anything, sir, but we'll get the kishin as soon as possible."-Chuckling- "He'll soon be begging for mercy when we are done with him."

Glancing over his shoulder, Lome said in a voice that demanded respect, "Please try not to get in the way of my men. This ship is due to leave in seven-two hours and it is bad enough that they know one of their own is feeding on them. On a ship where one must live with another having one of those things on the loose will cause tensions."

Treou was about to say something before his partner nudge him in the arm. After she flashed a few signs he gave a nod. "Sir, is there anything you can tell us about the kishin? How does he attack? When is the general time?"

Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the window. "I'm afraid all I can tell you that his method of killing is methodical. He knows the working of this ship. He knows the time we change swifts, where the most isolate spot at a given time, and the personality of the men. Loners are his usually target, but I think he will kill anyone who crosses his path. Though, he usually attacked people who won't be missed for at less a day."

It looked as if he shuttered so slightly, but it could have been a trick of the eyes. "Way of killing is almost always the same. Either sneak up or confront the person to sever one of the main arteries. Victim most likely had only several seconds of consciousness before fainting from blood lost. In a minute or two the victim bled to death." Glancing over his shoulder, he watched to see if there was any expression on the two teens' faces. Clair displayed some disgust, but except for that they-on the outside- seemed neutral.

"If I had anything good to say about the thing it had gave each of my men a quick death. Though, what he does next to the bodies is nothing more than for sick pleasure. When we found them all that is left had been torn to shreds." Someone in the room coughed in an attempt to cover up someone saying bastard. Choosing to ignore it, he continued, "Whatever weapon he used to kill he used another to mutilate the bodies. Only reason we know this is because on one of the bodies had one clean, round puncture wound while the other a ragged cut."

"So this matters because?"

"A cut that can only be made by a three edge blade. Though it doesn't scale up to the killing of a dozen of my men it's illegal to have it. Expect for maybe a few older sailors and the medical examiner nobody else knows about this. Hopefully the killer doesn't know we know. Doubt he be waving it about for the world to see, but might as well keep that in mind."

"Yes sir," said the meister as he and his partner saluted him. "Is there anything else?"

Chuckling, the captain said, "That is all. You're dismissed to rid my ship of this monstrosity."

Putting their arms back to their sides, the meister said to his weapon as they left, "So where should we begin?" Clair rolled her eyes as she flashed him a few signs. "A map," said the meister with a shake of his head. "We don't need a map. I toured one of these vessels before and memorize every twist and turn of it. This ship should be no different from that one." The weapon whistle nonchalantly as her eyes conveyed amusement.

A little insulted by his partner lack of trust he said, a bit harshly, "We'll start below deck. Be easier for the guy to make his kills down below than above."

Watching them leave, the captain exhaled a huge breathe. In all honesty he should be the one to seek out the kishin. He got the mean and willingness to do so. However, a captain of a crew of over two thousand can't risk his life because he felt the need to wipe a stain away. As he stared down at the deck not the first time he got a nudging feeling that something wasn't right.

* * *

><p>In the lowest levels of the ship in the cargo hold one of the crew members was carrying a pump. All about him were piles of large crates stack on top of the other. All of them were organize for contains they hold though to make sure no one make a mistake. Each had large black letters printed on their sides for the general items they held. From the roof of the room a series of dimly lit light bulbs provide enough light so he doesn't run into anything. His footsteps echoed off the iron floor made louder by the room he was in.<p>

A little ways away the floor was covered by a thin frame of water. Up ahead, other of his crew were either pumping as much water to somewhere else as fast as possible or trying to broad up the human size hole in the floor. A few of the men were muttering curses as he came up. "We're in fucking safe waters and still we managed to get a damn hole in our ship," said a burly man.

"Quit your complaining," said a scrawny man. "It's bad enough we have to be down here when a kishin is on the loose. I heard that several of the kills were made in this general location." Scanning the room, he blew a little air out of his mouth. "Hate to be the sap that comes down here all by himself. It took several days to find the last guy. By the time they found him he was torn to bloody pieces and covered in flies.

"Yep," said a man with a thick southern drawl. "But even the killer isn't crazy enough to take us all on. Maybe armed, but two hands can only handle two people." There was a nod of agreement to that. "Now let stop yapping and fixed this damn hole. The sooner we are done the sooner we'll get out of here." All of them shouted an agreement to that.

"So," said the scrawny man, pointing to the hole that was still gushing seawater, "what do you think could make a hole like that in an iron hull? It's looked as if something cut it way in."

"Maybe it's that Jap sea spirit called Umibozu," joked the southern man.

"Wouldn't bet on it," said the scrawny man. "Of what I heard the thing either capsize the ship or drown its victim with a barrel full of salt water. Beside, we're in port not on open waters."

"Aw," said the southern man, "how we know the damn thing didn't try. Probably can't lift this hunk of metal so it thought to drown us instead. Than it found out barrels are out of fashion so it choice to sink us in a different manner."

"Damn spirit is some type of monk," stated the burly man. "And suppose to be huge or at least compare to what those Japs used to call ships back than. Still, it looked as if a teen got some angry issues." Stopping what he was doing, he used his arms to measure the hole. "Expect for shorty over there none of use would fit." Shorty kept his mouth shut, but shot the man a heated glare. "Hell, if I may be bold enough I would say a girl or small boy did this."

"Think it's that woman who beat you when you tried to swindle another man's lady right in front of her." Laughter came over the group as the insulted man splash the guy who spoke with some sea water.

"Nope for I doubt that bitch would put her fat feet into the water must less fit through this hole."

Before anyone could remark a clunking sound somewhere near by drew their attention. "What was that?" asked the scrawny man, a little fear tainted his voice.

"A rat that probably spooked a jumpy recruit," stated the southern man with a grin. "It might eat your nose, but I think there are tastier things about." A louder thump that must have been cause by one of the crates falling over came from the same direction of the former sound.

"That one big rat," said the burly man, starting to sound unease. Several of the guys looked among themselves with concern gazes.

Getting to his feet, the southern man said, "Stop cowering you whimps. If it makes y'all happy I'll go and check it out." He wasn't able to take a step before a sound of footsteps to their left started to echo. Than a low, harsh voice started to babble in a language that sounded gibberish to them.

"Is that Japanese?" said one of them. "I think it is. Does anyone here know what it means?"

"We're Americans, not Japs you nitwit," bellowed the burly man as he cracked his knuckles. "And if this Jap thinks he can just come along and put holes in our ship... Hey, what is wrong with you guys? You look as if you seen a ghost." Except for him, everyone faces paled while their mouth were set in disbelieving terror as they stared at something. Turning his gaze, he soon follow suit with them.

Slowly sauntering their way was a tall, slender figure with a head, which was bent, shape as that of a monk. Seaweed covered it from head to toe as water dripped from it. The babbling sounds emanated from it, but there was no mouth which they could see. Each step it took started to sound squishier and a trial of water it left was tainted slightly black.

Frozen to their spots the sailors watched as the thing come toward them. They could feel water seeping through their shoes, telling them they need to fix the hole. But there attentions were on the thing, which kept on getting closer until it stopped several feet away from the group. It babbled on as it raise a pointed finger at them. Than it become silent, standing there for a few seconds, letting the tension in the air build up. Raising its head to revel two black orbs that served as eyes, it said in perfect English, "Got a barrel which I can borrow."

With that sentence said the sailors remember they got legs that they can use. Fear driving their mad dash, they headed toward the ladder that went above while screaming, "Umibozu." The thing stood there and watched the group until they were out of sight. Once out of sight it tried to repress a chuckle as the eyes turned from black to green. Not able to contain it, laughter burst forth as it wrapped an arm around its chest.

"We had our fun," said Ragnarok as he popped out of his meister's back. Some of the seaweed clung to him as he came out. Staring at the plant in annoyance, he used a hand to wipe it off as he said, "Now go back and receive your clothes. Nobody wants to see what is under all that."

"What?" she asked, sounding quite innocent, "The clothes were wet and uncomfortable."

"And this stuff isn't," said he as he pluck a piece of seaweed off his head.

"It feels pretty nice to me."

"Go get your clothes," ordered the weapon.

"I will," she said as she pulled some of the seaweed away from her face. "But you got to admit it was fun making those grown man run away like that."

"Yeah, it was."

Several minutes later Maka had taken off all the seaweed and was finishing up dressing herself by pulling on her shirt. "Now than," she said, putting a hand on her hip as she smile. "We have successfully infiltrated the enemy ship." Pulled out of thin air a Walther PPK was held in both hands, pointed at the ground as sunglasses materialize on her face. "It's time to pay the captain a visit."

"Wait a moment," shouted Ragnarok from within her body, stopping the girl in mid-step. "Where in the world do you get a gun?"

"Oh, this thing," she said, using one hand to point it at her forehead. Squeezing the trigger, a puff of smoke exit the barrel as she said," A toy I found at some pawn shop. It can't harm a fly, but it will make a person hesitate for a second."

"Whatever," said the weapon, "just keep in mind that thing is for show." Rolling her eyes, Maka grip the toy pistol with both hands once more and pointed it at the ground. Rushing forward, she headed in the general direction of where the frighten sailors run off. She may be in, but she had no idea how to get out of here. "Better found it fast," said the weapon, somehow reading his meister's thoughts. "Those brutes will be back to fix that hole. It won't surprise me if they bring some friends with them."

* * *

><p>In one of the corridors within the ship a man was lending against the wall as he smoke a cigarette. As far as he knew he was all along. For ten more minutes he will keep to himself, lost in his owns thoughts. On a ship unless you had your own room the word privacy was just another meaningless word. Being what the equivalent of an army grant, he only had the luxury at about this time everyday. It wasn't much, but it was enough at the time being.<p>

Off to his right he heard the sound of wood meeting the flat of shoes. Glancing that way, he saw someone he vaguely knew. There are two thousand men on this ship, but when you live on it long enough you had a little knowledge on everyone. A Caucasian man in his late twenties of average built was on the taller end when it came to heights. Well kept blonde hair with blue piercing eyes made him noticeable, but he wore the standard uniform. White long sleeve shirt with matching pants and brown shoes. He walked with a slight slouch as he neared him, but his head was held up.

"Good afternoon, Petty Officer Morgan," said the sailor with a half hearty salute. The man showed no signs of acknowledgement as he walked by. As he put his arm back down, he said, "Busy with something important." The officer tensed up, but kept on walking. "Well, have a good day than."

Coming to a stop in front of a door not too far off, the officer said, "Do you know where the meister is?"

Glancing over to him, the sailor shrugged. "He's somewhere below deck looking out for the kishin like everyone else. Crazy kid is going after the thing with nothing more than a whip."

"Shouldn't you be afraid?" asked the officer. "Heard that the kishin like to pick off the loners."

"You're by your lonesome self," said the sailor with a shrug. "Beside, this is the navy. I thought my job was to put my life on the line."

Nodding his head, and saying a quiet, "Yes." Morgan entered his room to leave the man in peace. Being a higher up officer, he was lucky enough to get his own room. It was about the size of a huge closet and barely tall enough for him to stand in, but it is his room as long he was station on the ship. Like most in the military he live only on what is necessary. A small bed, properly set, nailed to the floor was pressed up against the wall. Over the bed was a metal pole he hanged his clothes from. A large desk fasten to the floor was cover in paperwork. It wasn't much, but the room does allow him to keep some things secret.

Closing the door behind him, he went over to his bed and grabbed the pillow. Turning it over, he shook it until two pieced of oddly shape, steel colored metal fall out. Both were long, slender rods with a sharp end to them. A metal bracelet was attached to the other end. After he picked them up and examined them, he slipped them onto his wrists and placed his hands into his pockets. "Want a fight meister," he said as he gritted his teeth. "You got one."

Leaving the room, before he got too far, he asked the sailor again, "Do you know where the meister is? I think I can help him find the kishin."

"Last I heard he somewhere near the engineering shops."

"Thanks," he said, making a mental note of his next target.

* * *

><p>The engineering shops were the place where one either needed something fixed or pieces of machinery, within reason, was created and than haul off to wherever it was needed. They were two long and somewhat wide rooms opposite of the other. Heavy machinery that was usually at work was silent at the time being. Parts that one need to created things was store in racks that was push up against the wall. A couple of tables place here and there was cover in papers and tools. Hanging from hooks in neat order was safety equipment one needed to wield.<p>

In one of the rooms were the meister and his partner. Treou was examining what looked like a giant round saw, while his partner talks to the overseer of the shops. Hold your horses. I know what you are thinking. Clair is a mute, so she shouldn't be able to communicate with her mouth. However, she wasn't in human form and even than one couldn't hear anything from the weapon.

In her weapon form the girl was, from the beginning of the handle to the fall keeper knot, was a six foot long bullwhip. The handle was wood, but it was cover in the same black leather that made up the throng, the braided portion of the whip. At the moment, the overseer was handling the grip while the throng was laid out on the floor.

The overseer was standing completely still and his entire body was relaxed. His mouth was slightly ajar as unfocused eyes stared off into the distance. It would seem that the man was stuck in a hypnotic state, which wasn't far from the truth. No need for alarm for it was for his safety. As any meister, or educated man on the matter, know that for a person to use a weapon their soul much be able sync. However, there was a little known loophole which he and his partner use from time to time. When a non-meister is put under hypnotic suggestion for some reason he or she is able to at less hold a weapon. Nobody yet had figure out a way to actually fight with one in this state, but that wasn't needed. As the old saying goes it's easier to get to the truth when the soul lay bare.

The two had been at it for five minutes now leaving the meister to himself. Glancing over his shoulder for the fifth time, he finally saw the whip move. The throng slither in place much like a snake. Going over to the man, the moment he took the handle from his hand he heard his partner's crisp voice. _ He's clean. Does nothing more than the average sailor would do. _

Coiling the whip into a circle, he said to the man, "Okay than, when I count to three you will wake up and remember everything that have happen. One, two, and three." Granting, the sailor's eyes refocus as a hand went to his forehead. Unconcern, he said, "The nausea should wore off soon." He finished coiling the wipe into a tight circle. "Thanks for the help."

The sailor muttered something about damn kids and left the room feeling worse off than he came. Sighing, the meister asked, "So he was a waste of time?"

_ Unless he knows how to cloud his thoughts I saw nothing that will be of help. _A few images that should never be spoken of flashed through his mind. _That's for making me read another perverted idiot. _Treou cringed slightly as he hastily put up a defense for another wave of her wrath. Luckily for him she wasn't in the mood. _Let go talk to one of the female nurses. They must be less likely to have those damn thoughts. _

"Hey," he said as he walked out of the room. "You can't blame me for what we guys think. Beside, I feel insulted that you think I would even dare to think that."

_If I felt like it I probably find a wet dream about me in that mush you call a brain. _

"And you'll probably enjoy it to," he said with a chuckle. He felt the whip slid out of his hand as he stopped only a half a dozen feet from the shop. With a nonchalant grin he stared down the popper as it appeared in front of his face.

_NO I WOULDN'T! Just inappropriate things can only be dream up by men. _

"Really," he said, shrugging. "Than maybe those mutters for a certain person is just my imagination."

If she was in human form she would be blushing up a storm. The popper faced away from him as she said, _I have no idea what you are talking about. _

"Stop talking in your sleep and maybe I would be none the wiser."

For a few moments the two stood there in awkward silence. At less, it was awkward for the girl. Her partner was enjoying this too much. _I don't talk in my sleep. _With that said she recoiled herself back into place as the meister chuckled some more. If they weren't busy at the moment he might push her, but he could wait a little while longer.

"So where should we go..." he said, pausing momentarily as he turn around to see a man with blond hair staring at him with an odd look. "…now." As he looked the man over all he did was stand there, staring at him. "Got a problem?" asked the meister, getting to the point. The man didn't respond.  
>He glance to the whip and whispered, "This guy is freaking me out."<p>

_Keep an eye on him. Something doesn't feel right. _

"Don't have to tell me twice." Looking up he, begin to say, "Well, if you got nothing to say I need to..." Without making a noise the man had covered the distance between them in seconds. When he was within reach he pulled two rod from his pants pockets and tried to jam them into each shoulder. On the ball of his heel the meister spun to the right. As he spun he brought his arms to his sides and let the whip uncoil. The assaulter slid passed him and ducked when he tried to round house kick his head. This gave him enough time to jump behind the assaulter.

Drawing his arm back and than throwing it forward with a flick of his wrist, the whip quickly followed to strike the attacker's back. Diving forward, the attacker went into a roll as the whip snap empty air. There was the cracking sound and from the popper a thin blade of air assaulted the attacker. At first it seemed nothing had happen, but soon enough a thin line formed in the cloth. Underneath that was a thin line of crimson, betraying the wound.

"We don't feed on innocent souls," stated the meister as the man got to his feet. He glanced at the wound, not at all dismay by it. "But don't think for a moment we won't kill you." The man just stared at the wound for a few more seconds before turning to face them with an icy gaze. No feelings in those colds eyes as he pointed one of his strange weapons at him. "Don't know what I did to earn your scorn," he said as he ready the whip, "but consider your next move before making it."

Without a word the man dashed forward his arms by sides. "So be it," said the meister as he cracked the whip in rapid successions. Blades of air sail toward the attacker, forming a maze of a sort as the blades were horizontal, vertical, or diagonal put into a loose pattern. Alone none of them were lethal, but if one kept on getting hit they would be left in a critical state.

Fortunately for the attacker he was lumber. Weaving, jumping, and sliding out of the way by a hair width, he made his way toward the meister. Frowning, the meister started to make each crack of the whip a little more complex than the last. Crosses and stars were form rather than simple lines, but it did not slow the man. If anything his movement become more flaunt as he went.

Ducking under one last blade, he rushed forward and lashed out at the meister's genitals. A little alarm, Treou sidestep and tried to jump back. He avoided injuries to his jewels, but pressed himself up into the metal wall. _In hindsight,_ he thought as he duck under one rod going for his throat and rolled to the right to avoid the second one. _Fighting within a narrow corridor with little room to move in is a bad idea. _

In front of the attacker he had enough time to stand up only to be force to fall backward as a rod was thrust at his throat. He caught himself and quickly scrambled on all four backward as a rod drive downward where his stomach used to be. "A little help here," he said, seeing that the whip was between the guy's legs.

In respond the whip lashed onto a leg. Sparks flew as the girl force some of her soul wavelength into him. The attacker howled in pain and angry and lash out at the whip. He defiantly drew some blood, but the leather would not unravel. Back on his feet Treou give one strong tug, pulling the man off his feet. The whip uncoiled from its position as her meister turned and run.

_Damn pins are sharp_, said Clair with a hint of pain.

"Pins?" asked her meister as he glanced behind his shoulder. Already the attacker was on his feet and was right behind him.

_Judges pins to be exact. A Chinese weapon which usually only someone from that country would know how to use. Wonder how an American naval officer came across them._

Jumping and twisting around in the air, he let loose another blade of air. The attacker easily dodged it and dashed up to the meister. Before he was on his feet, one of the pins was stabbed into his into his lower abdomen. The next pin got an inch away from his throat before he grabbed the wrist. Grimacing from pain, he struggle to keep the wrist in place as the killer jerked the first pin out. "Get off," he said as he headbutted the attacker. The man's head recoiled and with his focus broken, the meister heaved the man off, sending him stumbling.

As he stumbled backward, the meister sent the whip flying. It wrapped around the man's neck and another shot of the weapon's soul wavelength shock him. He howled in pain as one hand grip the whip as the other went for his pocket. Giving him little time to act, the meister yank the whip to bring him closer. When in range he used his free fist to slug him in the cheek which would send him stumble back again.

Several times he did this while his partner kept on shocking the man. He stop when he yanked the attacker forward and he collapse onto the floor. For several more seconds the weapon kept on shocking him until she was sure that he was out cold. Uncoiling herself from the man's neck, she said, _He's the kishin alright. _

Letting go of the whip, the meister waited for his partner to change back before approaching the body. "So what do we do with him now?" he asked as he removed the pins from the man's wrist. "Usually I'm up for killing him where he is, but shouldn't we alert the captain we caught the killer. He got the right of delivering punishment on him." Glancing over his shoulder, he watched the weapon gave her signs. "Too dangerous to be left alone and the sailors might get the wrong idea if we drag him to the bridge." Looking the body over, he said, "If he's have another weapons on him." Going through the man's clothing, he found what he wanted in one of the pockets.

"What do we have here," he said as he pulled out a rather large folded knife. Careful, he opened it to find a clean knife that had three edges. "Think this is enough proof for the captain that we got our guy." Raising the blade so his partner could see it, she gave her meister a nod. "Add in those pins and that should do it. Speaking of pins..." After he fold the knife and putted everything they found in his pockets, he put a hand over the hole in his belly. When he pulled it up to his face the entire palm was cover with blood. "Let kill this guy and found the nurse or doctor on board."

Nodding her head in agreement, she got on her knees, took the head in both hands and twisted it sharply. The neck broke with a loud snap. With that done the body dissolve into a kishin's soul. Taking the soul in hand, she grinned at it before eating it whole. She licked her fingertips to savory what taste her meal may had.

"Finish up with being a spiritual cannibal," said Treou as he apply pressure to his wound. "I rather not bleed to death." Rolling her eyes, the weapon commented on how unlikely he will die in the next few minutes as she stood up. "Let head up to deck. Need to ask someone where we can get some first aid."

* * *

><p>Rushing up metallic stairs and levels of the ship in a corkscrew manner, Maka was quietly cursing herself as she made her way to the bridge. The toy gun was still pointed at the ground, but she was thinking of tossing it out into water. When it came to being sneaky the girl had no problem with keeping low. But anyone would found it difficult to keep out of sight of a couple thousand people when she needed to head to probably the hardest place to get to without being seen. Add to the fact that she was most likely the only female on the ship carrying around what she knew was a fake gun doesn't help her to blend in.<p>

Early she ran into a couple of sailors who were relaying a message to the captain. By pure luck they mention where he was, but they also saw her. She must be a strange sight to see, though, their attention was immediately drawn on the gun. After running halfway across the ship to escape two men shouting at the top of their lungs she hoped that the captain was still in place.

"Are you sure this is the right way," whispered Ragnarok. There was no one about, but they could hear people somewhere near by.

"Nope, but I figure that in most ships a person in command would like to be as high up as possible. Seeing that there a towering structure at the back of the ship." She shrugged. "We will found the captain here or we 'kindly' ask someone where he sleeps. Either way, I rather not tell Medusa that I fail to kill the guy."

As she came onto the next platform she overheard someone said, "Sir, the port master would like to meet you. He said something about ship regulation." Coming to a stop, she peered toward the direction of the voice. It came from a room with it door open slightly. A smile formed as she creeps over to the door. Pressing her back against the wall, she peeked through the crack to see a small, gray room.

Of what she could see was a few electronic instrument manned by several people. None of them were her target and she won't know who was until she goes in. Maybe the gun will serve a propose after all. She took in a deep breath and counted to three to calm her nerves. Stepping in front of the door, she kicked it in and shouted, "Everybody freeze this is a robbery."

As the door flew open she rushed into a room full of about a half a dozen man. All of them were stun struck, but a younger guy standing by a gray hair man at the window step in front of his elder. _So the old man is a goner. _ For a few moments everyone was frozen in place.

"A robbery," asked one of them in disbelief, "on a battleship?"

"Are you going to steal the ship?" asked the man who she now knew was the captain.

"No," she said as a sinister smile took it place. "I'm here to take your lives." With that said she pulled the trigger. A poof a smoke left the barrel, leaving the men stun for a moment. Once it dawn on them that the gun wasn't real they started to laugh.

The young man who stood in front of his superior was grinning as he said, "That's it? Girl, you are in a heap of trouble." He took a step forward, but didn't get much farther as a sickening splat put the room into dreadful silence. The man grin faded to a disbelieving expression as he looked down. Going straight through his chest, right into his heart, was a black spike of harden blood. The captain stared at the spike end as he rubbed the spot where it had pricked him.

All eyes trace the spike back to the giggling girl who was no longer holding the gun. Instead, the spike, coming out the palm of her right hand, went through the back of the toy, down the barrel, and into the man's chest. "You killed me," he said before his body went limp. The spike dissolve and the body collapse onto the floor.

"Sorry captain," said the girl as her sight hone in on him, "but it would seem that you mettle with the wrong crowd." Extending an arm out, the onyx blade appeared, its red lips pulled back into an ugly grin. "You should have left the witches and warlocks alone. Take it from me. They aren't people to screw around with."

Slowly advancing on the captain, she nonchalantly glanced at each man, daring them to stop her. Halfway across the room one of them accept her challenge. With a uncap pin in hand, the only thing he could find, he rushed the girl from behind as quietly as possible. The floor groaned alerting her that he was coming. Allowing him to near her, she waited until he was right on top of her before taking a quick step to the right. As she took the step she spun around and raised the blade. "Bye-bye," she said before burying the blade into his back. Jerking the blade out, a spray of blood followed. The man collapsed to the floor as his own blood pool around him. She doubted he would live, but knowing he would never walk again. One quick stab to the chest made sure he wouldn't suffer a fate of a cripple.

Right after she finished him another man came from behind and wrapped his meaty arms around her, pinning her arms to her side. "Quick," he shouted as she struggled. "Someone knock this bitch out." Bracing herself, Maka whispered under her breath a few words to her weapon. Ragnarok give a bloodthirsty smile as he carry out the order.

Before anyone could near them, the man holding the girl coughed up blood as multiple of spikes pierce clean through his torso and arms. Maka gritted her teeth to keep a yelp of pain from getting loose. From her back and upper arms Ragnarok had took the blood directly from the bloodstream to attack the man. "Human Porcupine," exclaimed the weapon in a joking manner. For several seconds they stayed in this position. The spikes retreated back into her body. Without support the man fell to the floor.

"Who next," she said through clench teeth.

"That would be me," said the captain, who was behind her with a hand in his pocket. "Everyone else will stand down."

Smiling, she advance onto the man and said, "So Captain Lome is nobly sacrificing himself for his men. Seeing that I don't have the time to stick around I guess I can spare them."

Staring her down, the captain asked, "Just before you kill me can I ask you a question?"

Since she was taking her time Maka said, "Sure, but make it quick."

"Why is a little girl like you doing helping a bunch of witches?"

Shrugging, she said, "Mother a witch and a bitch so I got little choice in the matter."

"How can your mother be a witch when you got a human soul?"

She slowed down to the point of dragging her feet. "You can see souls?" He gave a nod of his head.

"My other sight may not be as strong as a train meister, but unless you are using soul protect I can tell the different between a witch and a human." That brought the girl to a complete stop. All her life she had assumed she was a witch. A witch without magical powers she knew of but a witch never the less. And there no way she could have confirmed that by herself. In some respect soul perception works much like that of the normal sight. Not being able to see one soul is like one can't see his or her own face.

"But how can you see my soul?" she asked, recalling a memory of something her mother told her. "You're not even a meister."

Grinning, the man said, "Not every person who has the ability to become a meister become one. My passion was for my country and the seas. Not chasing down monster like you!" Wiping out a small pistol from his pocket, at point blank he unloaded the magazine, nine shoots, into the girl chest. Maka's free hand went to her chest as she stumbled back. "But when magical beings like your mother cause us normal people trouble I'm not afraid of taking matters into my own hands."

He expected the girl to collapse, but she shot him an icy glare and sprinted forward. He couldn't help but silently gasp as she leap tackle him with amazing amount of strength. They flew backward and crash through the window. At that moment he thought that she was committing suicide. Instead, he was surprise to see two huge, fleshy black wings sprung from her back. With one great flap they were propel up into the stormy skies. The roar of rushing water and wind nearly prevented him to hear her angry yell. "Are you ready to feed the fishes?"

Looking down, he could see that they were rapidly ascending hundreds of feet in the air. All that kept him from falling to his death was a homicidal girl holding him by his armpits. "Or maybe I should do your vessel a favor by dropping you on it. Probably be the first bombing it had seen in years."

"How is turning this guy into a smudge mark by dropping him on somebody head consider stealthy?" asked Ragnarok.

"It's not, but since we going to need to retrieve the captain's soul. I thought we can take a few more from the sailors who rush up to see if there is anything they could do for their captain."

A dark chuckle somehow made its way to Lome's ears, sending chills down his back. At that moment he noticed that they were no longer ascending, hovering in place. "Madwoman, your target should be in sight. It is... I don't know. More or less five hundred below us. Is the bomb armed and ready?" A malevolent smile spread over her face as a dangerous gleam tinkle in her eyes. From his position, the captain wouldn't be able to see it, but if he could he would be deeply trouble.

"Black Dragon, this is Madwoman. We are ready to drop this damn thing!" Praying, the captain asked only that his death will be as quick and painless as possible. Base on how high they were he might get his wish. "With your permission, we'll drop Choppy Sea onto the target."

"Permission granted."

"Bye-bye captain," she whispered in his ear. "See you in hell." With that said she simply dropped him. Withdrew her arms from his armpits and watched him fall. "Black Dragon, this is Madwoman. The bomb is deployed. Please standby for at less a moment before receiving the remains."

"I copy that. While we wait may I ask why you didn't just kill the guy when we were on the brigade?"

Shrugging she said, "I don't know." Looking to the ground, she snarled as she shouted, "You got to be kidding me!"

* * *

><p>Rubbing the mended wound that was under his clothing, Treou was above deck walking toward the brigade with his partner in tow. "Nothing more than a few stitches," he said to no one in particular. "I wish there was an easier way of hunting down kishin." Out of the corner of his eye he watched the mute wave a hello to several of the sailor around them. Some of the man stopped to wave back and a few even put on a friendly smile, but most rush by without a word. The rain had slackened to a drizzle, however, the air was cold and everything was soak. A sailor must work in any condition no matter what. It doesn't mean they have to prolong staying miserable if they can help it.<p>

Though, one sailor who stopped didn't bother to look their way. His eyes were on the skies as his mouth open wide to shout while his hand pointed at something overhead. Of course the two stop walking to figure out what was with him, but before he could say something. A decent size person with his body spread out into an X belly flop on top of Treou.

Clair jumped a good foot back as shock appeared on her face. As soon as it came it was gone replace by concern. Rushing over to them, she was surprise to found that the captain had just landed on top of her meister. Bending down, she shook his shoulder. A low moan of pain showed that he was alive. Than, slowly, he raise his head and turn it to see her.

"Oh," he said, seeming to be in a daze, "you're the weapon that doesn't talk. Where is your meister? I need to speak with him at once."

"Down here," said Treou, who was lying on his belly. "Flatten to the ground and probably broken my back, but still breathing."

"Sorry about that," said the captain as he got onto his hands and knees. "Though, I must thank you for if you haven't broken my fall. I would have been died."

"No problem," said the meister as prop himself up onto his elbows. "But next time you need to talk with us, please send someone."

As they talk the girl looked up to the skies. From where they were they were still a good way away from the brigade. There was nowhere near by which she could see that would allow the man to land on her meister. It was as if he just fell out of the sky. Spotting a small object overhead, her eyes squinted as she tried to figure out what it was. When it got closer her eyes open wide as her hands by their own command grabbed the captain's right arm.

Glancing toward the girl, Lome said, "Is something..." Not allowing him to finish she heaved the man forward. The captain's knees connected with Treou's torso causing him to flip onto his back as the man was pull from above him.

"What the..." he managed before he spotted what his weapon saw. Eyes wide from fear he quickly rolled to the side as a sword bit into the hard wood floor. A winged thing slammed into the deck causing a loud thud. The black wings shielded the body making it impossible to see it, but one could tell the thing was crouching. Opening up, the wings pulled back to reveal a snarling girl.

"I missed," she said with a trace of sorrow, "so much for making a shish kebab." As she looked the area over the snarl turned into a smirk. Standing up, she pulled her sword from the deck as she said, "Hey Ragnarok, look at what we got here. It's blondy and his whip."

"You know us?" asked the meister as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, remember seeing the two of you back in Mexico." Looking at her wings, she said, "Put those away. They won't help now." There was some grumbling, but the wings dissolved back into her body. Looking back at the trio, she saw that there were a growing number of sailors coming from all over. Probably came to see what the noise was about. The meister and weapon was still trying to figure out who she was. The weapon was in front of the captain in a protective manner. "What," she said, sounding offended, "Cotton Candy Head and Blood Eyes didn't mention me. Guess the ape didn't say anything either."

For a moment Treou was drawing a blank. _Cotton Candy Head? Blood Eyes? Ape? Who do I know at the time I was in Mexico could get those nicknames_. He didn't get a chance to mangle with the locals. The only people who it could possible be..."You're the demon swordsman," said Treou, tone dead serious as he started to back up toward his weapon.

"I prefer to be called the demon swordswoman," she said with a roll of her eyes. Gesturing to her body, she asked, "Do I look like a male to you?"

Shrugging, he said, "Well, your chest is pretty flat." The girl twitched her eyebrow as Clair rolled her eyes. "Than again, if we dress you up in a baggy shirt and jeans it would be difficult to tell. Would either be a handsome girl or a pretty boy." Glaring, the girl's eyes drilled into an overall not too concern boy.

The sword was laughing heartily as it said, "He's right! Maybe we can dress you up as a guy and have you sneak into an all guy club. Make one hell of a surprise when you attack them and in the end you reveal yourself as a pathetic excuse for a girl."

Turning her glare on the weapon, she exclaimed, "Traitor! You're supposed to be on my side!"

"Hey, just because I'm stuck with you don't mean I'm going to agree with you."

Stabbing the blade back into the deck, Maka bend down to face the inhuman lips. "We're partners whatever you like or not," she shouted. Sighing, she added, "Whatever I like it or not. So it would be nice if you give some support here."

"Why the hell should I?" shouted the weapon. "You're an abusive bitch."

"Am not!"

"Are to!"

As the two argue with the other the crowd around them stared at them blankly. Treou was in disbelief that the two left themselves vulnerable while the captain and his weapon partner expressions were deadpan. Even though the captain knew better this was a far cry from the murderous being that dropped him just seconds earlier.

One of the sailors thought to take advantage of the situation. Before anyone could stop him he rushed at the girl to tackle her to the ground. She didn't even bother to glance his way. Quickly gripping the blade, with a flip of the wrist she pulled the sword from it position and placed it so the man impale himself on it. A gush of blood flew from his mouth as the sword went through his gut. With an indifferent stare she roughly pulled the blade up and out. "How rude," she said as the corpse fall down. "Did no one ever teach him it is rude to interrupt someone?"

A sharp pain in her right cheek caused her to pause. Placing a hand against it, she pulled it back to see a thin ribbon of black blood. "Sorry blondy," said the girl as she glanced over to the meister his whip in hand. "But I don't have the time to play with you." Suddenly she turn very giddy as she grin and said, "Wouldn't it be fun to mess around a little while. What type of games do you like to play? I like..."

"Maka!" shouted the demon. "Foolish captain is standing right behind him." For whatever reason the captain was right where he shouldn't be.

"Right," she said as she dashed forward. Pulling the blade back, she planned on going right through the meister. No way that a whip can stop a sword and she could stand being hit once or twice. Either the meister have to move or be cut down.

He rushed forward several seconds after the girl, neared her before jumping over her head. Confuse by the action Maka glance over her shoulder to see the whip coming at her. She felt it wrapped around her neck. When he landed he gave one strong tug. Cursing as she fall onto her butt, with her free hand she tried to pull the whip off. As soon as the soul wavelength hit her she let out a pain fill scream. But she didn't stop pulling. Several finger managed to slip under it and she pulled on it until it was loose enough to slip her head out.

Scrambling away from the meister, she heard a crack and pain flared up in a shoulder. "Want to play hardball," she whispered as she got to her feet. "Than let play, Ragnarok, scream resonance." Facing the blade at her enemy, it let out a gut wrecking scream that would make any person feel weak in the knees. The sailors were no different. Many of their knees buckled and hands covered their ears. A few even run away to distance themselves from the awful sound. The captain held his ground and kept on watching the two combatants.

Gritting his teeth, Treou commented, "So I'm not the only one around who can use sound to my advantage."

"Yap," she said as a maddening grin stretched across her face, "but I can do it better." She easily covered the ground between the two before he could raise his whip. She got right in his face, causing him to freak out a little on how close she was. Taking in a deep breath, the girl's cheeks puff up before she let out an earsplitting scream. Treou eye's open wide as his mouth clench shut. A little stream of blood flow from his ears as the sound waves assaulted his ear drums. He knew he needed to move, but his mind was in a haze due to by the sheer volume of her shriek.

_Blade to your right! _exclaimed Clair, her voice cutting through the haze like a hot knife. His body responded to the warning, twisting his waist as the sword tried to cut off an arm. _Shut her up! _Ramming an elbow into the swordswoman's jaw, a part of him was glad she shut up while the other part was thanking his weapon. She stumbled back, shaking her head from side to side, but recovered quickly.

To put some ground between them the meister slowly walk backward as he cracked his whip, letting loose blades of air. Unlike the kishin from early the swordswoman didn't even try to dodge. She presented the flat side of the sword at him and used her free arm to support it. The advance was slow for each blow against the blade forced her to give a little ground. However, she never relented so she was getting closer and closer to the meister.

_This isn't working, _stated Clair.

"I know that," he said, frustrated, "and am I the only one who notice she got a few bullets sticking out of her chest?"

_It's her blood. When we slash her across the cheek the blood harden almost instantaneously. _

"So are you telling me that the only attack that we got that can affect her is your soul wavelength?"

_Pretty much. It means that we have no choice but get up close and personal._

Sighing, he said, "Swell. Just swell. Can anything else go wrong?" Out of nowhere a bullet squeal by his face while another glaze his leg. Diving behind one of the turrets, he was confused on where the gunfire came from. Than he remembered they were at a naval base. If help was needed all a person would have to do was phone the locals. Normally, reinforcement was a good thing, but considering whom they were fighting. They were more likely to get themselves killed. "Damn it," he said from behind his cover, "not good." He tried to peer around the corner, but a stray bullet ricochet off on the metal right in front of him, discouraging him to leave the spot.

He didn't see much, but he could tell that the girl attention was no longer on him. At first she was surprise at being shot in the back. However, that shock quickly gave way to angry as she turned her wrath onto the new attackers. About a half a dozen uniform men of mix ethnicity armed with assault rifles were pelting her. It hurt like hell, but they did her no real harm.

Growling, she sprinted toward them. Needless to say, the men were shock to see that she wasn't going down. A little too soon their magazines ran out. As they tried to reload the girl came into close quarters. First man was still fumbling with the magazine when his chest was sliced open. The next two managed to reload only to be cut down. One man got off a few rounds off before his head went flying as the remaining two were shouting to fall back while they kept on firing. They didn't get too far. One of them in a feeble attempt raised the gun to stop the incoming blade. It was cut in two, right down the middle. Its owner hardly fair better for half his inner parts were exposed to the air. Last man threw his weapon down and run out of there.

"This mission isn't so secretive anymore is it?" she asked as she looked over the carnage.

"Let find the captain before they decide to bring explosives on board," said the sword.

Nodding in agreement, she went only a few feet when she felt something wrap around her right wrist. "Most people by now would be smart enough to run," she said to the meister behind her.

"You're name is Maka, right?" he asked as he kept tension on the whip. She gave a nod. "You seem like a bright girl. Not complete sane, but not at all dull. You should know as a meister I can't just run whenever I feel like it. As long lives are at risk I must stop you." Gritting her teeth, the girl could feel the weapon soul wavelength attacking her. "So why don't you make our lives easier and die already."

Turning to face the meister, the swordswoman raised her wrist and said, "Got to do better than that. Ragnarok, if we want to find the captain we will need an aerial view. Something tells me he's waiting for us."

The blade chuckle as it exclaimed, "Hang on bastard!" Two onyx wings sprung from the girl's back and with one flap she was in the air. Maka whispered something to her weapon and soon enough both hands were free to grab hold of the whip. Clair put more power into her attack, but base on the craze grin all she was doing was encouraging the girl. Grabbing the whip with both hands, he barely had time to shout before he was pulled off the ground.

_This is not a good idea! _thought meister and weapon as they went upward. Circling the ship in a clockwise motion, the girl kept a close eye on the deck. Treou made attempt to climb the whip, but his weapon protested. _I'm not a rope! As soon as we can and as safely as possible we are getting off this ride. _

He open his mouth to reply, but it turned to screams as they dive bomb the ship. He barely cleared the railing and bounced off the deck several times. "Not here," said the girl as they sharply turned a corner; Treou rammed into a wall. "Maybe he is over here." She passed over a group of scrambling sailors who were looking for anything to bring her down. They do have anti-air turrets, but she was way to close to the ship to be of any use.

Doing his best to weave through the crowds, Treou twisted his body this way and that. He managed to get through with only knocking only a few men over, but still got a few new bruises to his growing collection. "Let check the bow," she said as she suddenly went up and turn sharply. Causing the meister to flap onto his back and take off into the air not sure where they're going.

As he tried to twist around, the weapon protested once more. _Ow! Stop that! That really hurts! _

_ Where a mute button when you need it? _he thought in annoyance.

_I heard that! Oh, and incoming! _

Throwing his weight to the left, he nearly missed ramming into the American flag. "Are you even shocking her?" asked the meister as he glace up at the girl. He could see a few sparks, but it didn't help that rain water was hitting his eyes.

_I'm trying, but I think she doesn't even notice anymore. _

All of the sudden the girl went into a steep dive. Though it was only for a few second Treou could full his stomach lurch as G-force pulled at his skin. Soon enough they leveled out right above the deck which he bounce off several more times. "When are you going let go of her?" he angrily shouted at the whip, unaware of the flagpole until his head collide into it. The wood give way to the speeding mass and send the flag twirling off into the sea.

_I_ _didn't want you to slam into the metal railing. _The meister hardly heard her for he was soothing in pain.

The girl turned about to search the port side of the ship. _There you are_. Slowing down as she neared the deck, once the meister hit the wooden ground one hand let go of the whip and extended it out. She doesn't normally use her left hand to wield the sword so it felt a little awkward when it formed in it. But all she needed to do was hold the sharp edge out in front of her. In view, the captain stood where the conflict with the whip meister started. If he wanted to die than she would grant him his wish.

With renewed speed the wings propel them forward. From the sword's mouth another terrible screams pierce the air, sounding it excitement for the kill. That same excitement was etched on the girl's face. This hunt may have been a little more frustrating than others, but the added challenge, if not that deadly, does added some needed fun to it.

_Time to ditch this ride,_ said the whip as it uncoiled itself from the girl's wrist. As soon as the leather came loose, the girl shot forward with the added weight gone. Treou was send trembling forward, head over heels. He went several yards before coming to a stop on his stomach. Lying there, he moaned softly as he tried to gather his thoughts.

_I'm going to be sore in the morning, _he thought, his eyes staring at the deck. Off in the distance he heard the noise of metal cutting flesh and bone. A thump soon follow and something bump into his head. He knew that someone was just killed. He also got a good idea who it was, but fear of what he was about to see kept his face down.

For a few more seconds longer he prevented the inevitable. Sighing, he turned his head up to see gray hair. On his knees, he got a full view of the head of the captain. Lifeless eyes were staring up into the skies as his face was set into a neutral expression. Turning his gaze up, about a half a dozen feet away, the meister spotted the girl standing over a decapitated body. Blood pour from the body's neck oblivious to the girl holding its soul in her hands. She just stood there, seeming to be mesmerized by the soul.

"Give me that," said a thing that popped out of her back. Ripping the soul from her hand, it gulped it down in one bite. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the thing must be Ragnarok. Glancing over to the down meister, he said, "Let kill him next. A meister's soul must taste wonderful if his soul is so powerful."

Still staring at her hands the girl shrugged. "Turn back into a sword." Without arguing, the demon did as he was told. The red lips were smiling when she walked over to the meister. However, when she didn't move to strike the grin faded into a confused frown. Gazing down at the boy, she examined his eyes as he stared back. She was looking for something she had seen in so many of her victims. There wasn't a single trace of fear when the captain died. And now that she was looking into his she could see it. However, there was something else that belittled the fear. It was something that she couldn't put her finger on.

"You're friends with Cotton Candy Head and the ape?"

Shrugging, he said, "No, but I do know them."

Bending down, a friendly smile, a real smile, came over her face. "Can you do me a favor and relay a message to them." The meister raised an eyebrow. He knew kishin were strange due to madness. However, this was the first time one asked him to do anything in a friendly manner. Add to the fact that she was looming over him with a sword and massive wings made this more surreal.

"I have to be alive to do that," he stated to make sure he heard her correctly.

Giggling, she exclaimed, "No daa!"

"Wait a moment!" shouted the sword. "His soul is ripe for the taking and you're..." Maka rolled her eyes as she placed the sword's mouth onto the floor. All it did was muffle him, but he wouldn't be a problem.

"Tell them..." She paused for a moment and hummed a little tune. Her hand went to her chest as she said, "Tell them next time we meet that I will kill them. As fun as our last play date was I will not hold back. So they better get ready, because death and madness is coming their way." Straightening back up, she picked up the sword and said to it before it could complain. "We already killed enough people today. I'll fly up and you can do your soul collecting thing." The tone of her voice left little room for argument.

"Fine," said the sword as they flew up into the sky. Getting onto his butt he watched the girl took her place high above them. He saw the glow that told him that his partner turned back to normal, but they sat in quiet to see what the girl would do. At some point she was hovering in place while holding the sword out. A faint scream was heard and from where they were they weren't all too sure what the little blue dots of light that appeared were. However, when the dots entered the weapon's mouth they assume the worst. After this was done the girl fly off into the east.

Not until she faded from sight did Treou spoke up. "So... how are we going to explain this to Lord Death?"


	12. Chapter 11

Daisy: *Sitting at a table, drinking sweet tea, while Mulleb sat across from here* Hello! We are back.

Mulleb: Yep, and with another chapter. Does anyone know when the last chapter had been post because I'm not keeping track. If not it's not at all important. Sistine isn't here because she busy with something else at the moment.

Daisy: *Take a sip of her tea before saying* I wonder where everyone else is. Haven't seen anyone since I got back.

Mulleb: *Shrugging* Beat me. Crona suppose to meet us today, but for some reason he is late. *Glance at the clock.* Well, we can't wait any longer for him. Time to get this show on the road.

Daisy: *Grinning* Yeah! Light, camera, action! *Mulleb stared at Daisy* What? I always wanted to say that.

Mulleb: *Shaking his head* Enjoy the read.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven<p>

Outside an ice cream shop was a normal scene which any community was familiar with. Around a couple of white plastic tables with matching chairs were a group of teens hanging out. All of them had either bowls or cones of ice cream to their liking. The amount of ice cream they had varied due to the heat and how fast they were eating it, but that was the less of their concern. At less, six out of the seven weren't too worried. Black*Star had gotten three large scopes of bubblegum piled on top of the other, sitting within a cone. Within minutes he gobbled everything down until there was nothing left but the tip of the cone.

At the moment he was asking- if not quiet yelling- if any of his friends could lend him some money. No one offered to give him a loan, but not because they thought he wouldn't pay back. They were afraid if he eat other triple scope that fast he would get a painful brain freeze.

Sitting right beside him, Tsubaki silently watched her partner as she used a spoon to eat the plain vanilla residing in a small bowl. Soul, right across from the egoist, gave a lazy smile as his tongue worked on the chocolate with nuts, residing on a cone. His meister was to his left, picking at the chocolate mint in a bowl. Though he was smiling, his eyes got that far off look of someone who was half listening while thinking about something else. Next table over Kid was glancing over his shoulder as his spoon made another dive for the banana split, being careful to eat it symmetrically. Across from him were the Thompson sisters, side by side, Patty munching on a fudge bar while her sister ate an ice cream sandwich. Both were content at the moment.

In all, it would seem that a bunch of friends had came together to hang out. Though, Crona would had rather be home, lying in bed, reading a book so he could be lose in another world. But he was glad that his partner had dragged him along. As Soul would put it 'Stay to long in one place and soon you'll have mushrooms growing out of your head.' He doubt that would happen anytime soon, but interacting with his peers does help get his mind off certain things. One of those things would have to do with the fedora hat perched on his head.

He chuckled slightly as he watched the egoist go into a rant. Something about how he could eat a thousand gallons of ice cream and still not get a brain freeze. The image of an overweight assassin came to mind which caused him to chuckle. Patty and Soul commented, but he didn't really hear them. Funny how one can be so quiet, but still couldn't register much of anything because his thoughts won't let him. He wasn't even trying to do it, but it was easier to stay in his mind than it was to communicate with others.

It took him several minutes to realize that someone was calling his name. "Earth to Crona," said one of the sisters. The more she talked the sooner he recognized her as Liz. "Are you still with us?"

Shaking his head, he said, "Not completely, but enough of me is here to respond back."- glancing over his shoulder- "What is it you want?"

Talking as she ate some more of her sandwich, she said, "We were wondering how the progress of your soul resonance with Soul is going." When did the subject turn from ice cream to soul resonance? He wasn't sure, but everyone had their eyes on him, except Soul who already knew the answer. All of the sudden his ice cream had became very interesting.

Sighing, the scythe meister wished this subject hadn't been brought up. Most of his classmates had been able to do the more advance moves for a couple of years now. A few hadn't and he was one of them. Since his mother was a skilled meister and his father a death scythe, people have somehow gotten the notation that he would be a great meister like his mother. So one of the things he should be able to do was the move called witch hunter. Any skilled scythe meister should at less be able to perform this move on a whim- except for him that is.

It not like he hadn't tried to mastered witch hunter. He and his partner had spent countless hours practicing it ever since they first heard about it. But for some reason he just can't do it. How many times had he tripped or couldn't control the move? Too many times he was able to control it, but before he strikes the target- usually an unfortunate tree- his partner and his soul wavelength would get distributed and a normal scythe blade would get lodge into the target. Last time he tried doing it he was no more successful than the time before. He got the power and the control to do it, but wasn't able to combine them at the same time.

"Well enough," he answered, scooping up a large amount of ice cream and shoved it into his mouth so he doesn't have to say anything else. He didn't need to for that was the usually answer he gave.

None of them spoke for a moment for none of them wanted to say anything wrong. Black*Star was the one who broke the silence. "Damn tree won't stop moving," he said, grinning. The pink-hair meister just stared at him for a second before a small smile form. It was an inside joke between the two and probably only funny if one had been there. However, whenever it was mention neither could keep a smile off their face.

"No," he said after swallowing. "If that was the problem all that was needed is for you to tackle it to the ground."

Feeling the need to change the subject, Kid asked, "Have you heard of Treou's latest report?" Everyone gave him a look that said who haven't. After just arriving a couple days, most of the school had heard of how he ran into the demon swordswoman. He wasn't going around bragging about it, but words of it had somehow leaked out among the students. "That girl doesn't seem to be like your average kishin."

"A kishin is a kishin no matter how it acts," stated Crona between bites. The treat doesn't taste so sweet anymore. "That's the number one rule we were taught. Some of them may act like normal humans, but they sold their soul to madness."

"Even so," said Black*Star, quieter than usually, "she got a grudge against you and Sid." Four of the seven looked between the egoist and the scythe meister with a questioning look. Soul excused himself to find a restroom. Of what rumors that had reach the general public the threat on his life hadn't been one of them. Treou had pass on the message and the receiver told only a selective few people about it.

Taking one last bite from his ice cream, Crona placed the spoon in the bowl. As he stood up he said, "I got to go. Dad and I have plans this afternoon. If anyone wants my ice cream they can have it." With that said he left, heading toward the school. They watched him leave before the group turned a questioning look on the egoist. He was too busy finishing off the chocolate mint to notice them.

Climbing up the school's stairs, Crona wondered why they have to meet here. His own apartment would have work or they could even meet up at his father's place. Come to think of it, ever since Mom moved out Dad haven't once invited him over. The more he thought about it the more he convinced himself that it was probably for the best. While Mom was with them he at less had the decency to keep women he had a 'thing' for away from the house. Add the fact that he was a bit of a slob and one can image why the parent would keep his child away.

Pushing the thought aside, he found Spirit on the platform lending on the stone railing, staring at the sun. "Good afternoon Dad," he said, "I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

Looking his way, Spirit put on a cheesy grin. "Hey there, how my favorite young man doing?" Good thing that the platform was deserted. The red head doesn't seem to understand that some things shouldn't be say out in public.

"Fine," Crona said as he stood beside his father, staring out over the city. From where they were they could see a good portion of it, but there were better places to view it. "So you got any plans on where we going tonight." Before his father could answer, he added, "That doesn't include indulging in your favorite pass time."

"Of course not," he said, waving his hands in front of his chest, defensively. "I thought that we go out for dinner and then go do an activity of your choosing." Crona glanced at his father, looking for any hidden propose. Once, he tried to drag him along to some place he couldn't remember the name of, but knew he shouldn't be there. Black*Star saved him just before they enter the building.

Sensing no lie and having no reason to believe his father would do so. He took the pressure off the man by glancing back to the city. "So where are we going?" he asked, absently.

"Remember that Mongolian grill that just open up." A slight nod was all he needed. "I thought we can try it out and see if it's as great as everyone say it is." The pink-haired boy gave a grunt as he tilled the brim of the hat over his eyes. Halfway down the sky the huffing sun was casting an annoying glare. Though he was thankful for the protection, the hat reminded him why he came here early. Like most humans his father was a creature of habit. Dining late at night was one of those habits. "So when do we go out to eat?"

As expected, the death scythe opened his mouth wide enough that when it suddenly snapped shut. The boy knew that he would be eating late tonight. "It will be several hours from now," stated the death scythe, sheepishly. Staring off into the distance, one of his hands rubbed the back of his head as he formulated a new plan for this evening. Wouldn't be that hard for there was plenty of entertainment within the large city. Though, his son injected an idea on how to begin.

"Can we just talk for a while? We haven't talked much in the past few months." Busy schedules were to blame for the most part. School work, missions, and other hassles of daily life on Crona's part while his father's... What exactly does he do all day? Probably takes on assignments which were suicidal to his common peer, but other than that whatever he does was anyone guess.

Taken a little off guard the death scythe uttered an intelligent, "What?"

"Talk," he said, simplify things, "like chatting a bit."

Shrugging uncertainly, the death scythe replied, "Talk about what?" Parental worries and an overacted imagination kicked in as concern covered his face. "How something bad happen? Falling behind in grades? Are you doing drugs? Wait! Don't tell me you got a girl pregnant."

Bewilderment set onto the younger man's face as he stared at his father. For a few seconds he kept quiet, but quickly spoke up before his father got the wrong idea. "No, no, and hell no! All I want to do is talk." The concern stayed in place long enough to annoyed him. Doesn't his father have any trust in him? Then again his parental skills can make a cold blooded lizard look motherly so he decided to let the older man speak first.

After about ten seconds the concern morphed into a more relax if slightly on guard expression. "Doubt you want to talk to your old man just for the fun of it." It depended on the kid, but he was right about this one. Crona's hand went into his pocket to take out a neatly folded piece of paper. Offering it to his father, he stood there in silence as the older man took it. As if holding a time bomb he carefully unfolded it. Once it was back to normal size he looked the paper over. "Not bad," he mused.

On the piece of paper, was a sketch of a tall, scrawny girl. Long, tangle, unkempt hair fell behind her shoulders, stopping right below the middle of her back. A black shirt and striped skirt were disheveled, but her shoes and what he could see of a fingerless glove were well kept. A playful smile graced her face, but a wild look in her eyes made it a little unsettling. One of her feet was placed in front of the other as if readying to attack. A sword with inhuman lips gripped in the gloved hand added a certain threatening air to the picture.

In all, the girl had a beastly glamour to her. There was something dangerous about her that tell a person she should be left alone, but had a strange beauty that any man, brave or foolish, would like to take a closer look at. However, he could see a few errors even if he wasn't an expert on art. The arm handling the sword was slightly smaller than the other and the gloved hand was turned in an odd angle. One eye was slightly higher than the other and the nose was a bit too small.

There might be other mistakes, but there no doubt that his son had a knack for drawing. With a little more practice the sketch could become something more. "Not bad at all," repeated the death scythe. "Did you draw this?" He got a simple nod. "It's nice, but who's the girl?"

"Maka," he said solemnly, "the demon swordswoman who sent me the message."

At the first word the death scythe tense up for a split second. Because he wasn't looking, Crona missed it, but even if he did saw it. He wouldn't have been able to make head or tails of it. For him the name was a word that could be match up to a face. To Spirit, the name was a reminder of a child he lost.

Though his body tensed up, years of practice kept facial expression and body movements from exposing a long buried sorrow. It's the sort of sorrow that can be hidden with time and discipline, but never put fully to rest. That ugly feeling was threatening to resurface after so many years. _This isn't your baby girl_, he reprimand himself. _This is a monster who taken many lives to satisfy its hunger. _

Then why was his hands clenching to the paper as he scanned the girl over? How could it be he hadn't seen the resemblance until her name was spoken? She looked so much like his wife- pardon him, ex-wife- that it was uncanny, bordering the zone of plain out scary. In his mind he could color in the image and that was more unsettling. Put a like more flesh on the chest and add a few scars… Forcing his hands to unclenched the paper so he doesn't wrinkle it. He pried his eyes from the sketch to look at his son who seemed a little unease by his reaction.

His son. May not be of his flesh and blood, but he was his little boy never the less. If he could go back in time he wouldn't have stop the doctor who took his daughter. He had thought it over many times over the years and he knew that if he had interfered. There was a chance that the doctor could have gotten away with his son. No telling what a mother who didn't want her child would do to the boy. After his younger self and Karma adapted Crona he would have done anything in his power to help them found the girl. If they were lucky she would be alive and their son would have a sister. If not than at less Karma and he could grieve properly.

Every day for fifteenth years he silently prayed that he would receive news of his missing little girl. It would seem that fate had finally granted his wish, but like that day so long ago with its cheerful appearance. It had to twist the news in just a demonic way that he now wished that he ignorant. But was this news of his little girl or was this a strange coincidence.

Lost in thought it took him a moment to resister that his son was talking to him. Blinking his eyes and shaking his head, he said, "Sorry, I zone out. What were you saying?"

Looking his father over one last time, the pinked-hair boy said, "I was saying are you alright. I lost you for a moment."

Pushing the paper back to the boy, Spirit repeated, "I zoned out for a moment. I was remembering a memory that wasn't pleasant. So what is it about this demon swordswoman you like to know about?"

Crona was still a little worry that something was wrong with his father, but decided that whatever it was wasn't important. Taking the paper from him, he took a turn at looking at it. "Any information will do. I don't know why, but there something about her that won't let my mind rest." With one hand on the paper the other took off the hat and started to spin it on the end of his index finger.

"Haven't we warned you not to fall for the wrong crowd," Spirit joked, not sure if he was trying to relax his mind or that of his son. The moment he spoke he knew the joke was lame, but Crona smiled anyway. It was the thought that count.

"Trust me, that the last thing on my mind." Centering his eyes onto the eyes of the girl, he said, "I probably haven't told you this, but we meet briefly before she attacked us." That caught the older man's attention. Being Lord Death's personal weapon and the closest -if only literally if not figuratively- he could get a sneak pick on any meister's report he wanted. A bit nosy by nature he would look through his son's reports just to see how things were going. Nowhere in his report on Mexico did he mention he met the girl twice.

"You haven't told Lord Death either," he whispered so low that a mouse would have to strain its ears to hear him. Louder-and unknowingly to him, more cheerful-, he said, "Really? Base on what I heard you barely got away the second time."

A deep, confusing frown came into place as the hat was perched back onto Crona's head. "Dad, unless you had been there, there is no way you would believe what I'm about to say." Spirit kept quiet, allowing the boy to continue. "We- Soul and I- were walking in the crowded streets minding ourselves and getting the layout of the city. When out of nowhere a girl, the same one who later tried to kill me, crashed into me. She was running away from some guys who she stole from and..." He paused for a second to gather his thoughts. "You know I like to help people out and you should have seen her. Not quite skin and bones, but pretty damn close. She also looked scare to death so I help her out by paying for the stolen, which were also damage, goods. At the time if I knew better things might have gone differently."

How it would be different who knows. Base on numerous reports- Treou's and Crona's accounts were the clearest they got- in the past there had been a female kishin who seemed to be indestructible. Description of the kishin was a little sketchy, but there were no doubts, now, to who it was. Due to recent events they knew that she could be harm, but it would seem that firearms and any weapons that slice to kill can't harm her. Meaning, if Crona had known who she was there was little he could have done.

"But there something more to it than that," said the boy. "When she crashed into me she hit me head on. We fall to the ground and her eyes were the only thing that I could see for several seconds." Taking in a deep breath, he said, "Back than I couldn't place my finger on it, but after looking over a few pictures of Mom." He shook his head in disbelief. "I saw something in those eyes that belongs to her and don't ask me how I know. Don't know how it's possible, but somehow a small piece of Mom was inside that girl." For far too long the two of them stood in silence.

Crona was staring right into his father's eyes, demanding an answer. He doesn't know that he had a long lost sister. Too young to remember the media storm and when he was old enough to recall memories the storm had long blown over. Neither Spirit nor Kami spoke about the missing girl when he was about. He was never given a reason to think that he was taken in because his mother left him as a replacement. Whatever he suspected he was not their natural born child was one thing, but to learn what happen that night was another.

For a moment the father fought an internal battle to whatever or not to speak his suspension. However, that would mean exposing a truth and feelings at a wrong time. He decided to sidetrack the conversation. "Don't know what to tell you," he said as he looked out onto the horizon. "But what I can tell you is that this kishin by all reports is a special case."

"It's believed that at a young age the girl,"- he wouldn't dare say the name-, "was kidnapped and than put through some cruel experiments. Not sure how, but the demon weapon, Ragnarok, was melted down in weapon form to created a liquid called black blood. It much like that of normal blood expect... You already experienced it first hand. Somehow the girl's blood was replaced by the black blood. Most likely done through blood transfusion, but it wouldn't have been an easy task or a painless operation."

Pausing briefly to catch his breath he glanced over to his son. To most people his face was unreadable, but he could see he was digesting the information. A twitch of an eyebrow and the slight twist of the lip downward told that he was founding it hard to believe that anyone would do this to another person, much less to a young child. "We think that a witch is somehow involved for a female figure had been seen in the background in past. Sometime it was a different female or that werewolf that attacked Sid. Thanks to the werewolf we are certain a female is creating a kishin. For what end we have no idea."

Crona's face shifted enough that genuine pity was shown. "She starting to sound more like a victim than a crazy killer," he stated.

Sighing, Spirit said, "It would seem that this kishin does have a will of its own. Not a strong one, but it is not weak either. For how long it will last is anyone guess, but no matter what the girl problems are. She must be put down." The boy cringed away from his father. Even if he does kill kishins he could easily justify that by the fact that they were must like rabid dogs. They were a danger to themselves and everyone around them. Better to put them out of their misery than let them live.

But what if a person was force to live a way of a kishin. Pity sometimes made it a bit harder to make the kill. Out of curiosity, the boy asked, "Is there anyway to take care of a kishin without killing it?"

For the first time that day Spirit seemed baffled. "Well, I wouldn't say that the only way to deal with one, but the only other way I can think of is to rely on a soul wavelength that is very rare. It's called the Anti-Demon Soul Wavelength or Exorcist Wavelength. Don't know much about it, but it said to have the ability to bring a person from the brink of madness by reaching out to the other soul. Other than that I have nothing else to say."

Looking down at his wrist, the father said, "Hey, look at the time. We better get going or we'll be late for dinner." Only an half an hour had passed, but Crona got a feeling that was all the information he was getting out of his father.

"We can catch a movie first," said Crona, saving his father from his own excuse.

"Yeah," he said with a cheesy grin. Well aware that his son just let him off the hook. "Let go down to the theater and see what's playing." With that said the two went down the steps. One of them was humming to himself while the other mulled over new information. Who was doing what no one could have told. As they walk they switch roles so many times it would seemed to be a habit the two had form.

On the outskirt of Death City was a house that inspires ghost stories among the youth. Though, due to day's light it doesn't appear as creepy. Around the large home was a wall of black and gray stones. However, instead of being separated by neat lines of mortar, it would appear as someone took a jagged stone with a flat top and literally sewn it to a stone of different color that set into place like a jigsaw puzzle. At the entrance people were met with two large gray arrows pointing to the sky. Beyond that they would came upon a large paved area right in front of the entrance of the house. To either side of this the only plants one would see was either grass or two, strange trees that had no leafs, but branches ending in arrow points.

The house itself wasn't much better. It looked like as if a child had placed irregular, size wooden blocks together and painted it a grayish-blue. On one side of the house there was an arrow build into it pointing upward. Dotting the walls with no logical orders, curtain less windows greeted the world with a dark, empty stare. Expect for stitches that run across the walls and a double arrow sign planted on an outline of a square, open patio at the front door. There wasn't a decorated item on the house.

Inside, one would guess that a scientist of a sort live within. The main room of the house looked as if it belonged in a laboratory rather than a home. The lights were off; the only source of light came from a square computer monitor sitting on an empty desk. A yellow couch sat in the middle of the room, which wasn't that unusual. However, on the coffee table in front of it there was a freshly dissected blue jay on a cutting board, surgically cut out organs place beside the body. Bookshelf filled with books of knowledge or tables covered with hot plates and beakers lined the walls. If there haven't been someone sitting in front of a computer monitor and the place haven't been so clean. One would think that the building was abandoned for it a bit too quiet.

Sitting backward in a rolling chair, Professor Stein was staring at the monitor. At the moment a hand laid idly on the keyboard while the other was working the mouse. On the desktop all there was a document that was twelve pages long. For the pass minute or so he been rereading it to make sure there was no mistakes. Nobody else was going to see it, but he wanted to make sure his logic was sound.

A shallow nod confirmed that it was. The hand on the mouse left it place to pick up a pencil that sat in the grove between his head and left ear. On the desk was a note card with a few notes jotted down. He added several more before he stood up. Putting the pencil down to pick up the card, he walked over to a doorway to turn the lights on by a switch.

The harsh glow of light blubs turned on to revel something that one couldn't see before. Tuck into a corner on the far right wall was a large board which one can pin papers to. And paper of all sort covered it. Most of items were note cards kept in place by push pins, but there were several pictures and documents. Some of the documents were group together by a piece of string looped around the push pins. He walked over to the board to examine it.

The board could easily be divided in two. On one side at the top of the board was a yellowed piece of paper with the words Missing Girl written in pen. Under this title were other pieces of paper as yellowed as it was and a faded picture of a baby girl. On the right side a piece paper that said Demon Swordswoman was so new that one could still smell the ink. It was on this side of the board he pinned the note card onto with other fresh pieces of paper and a few small pictures of a vague figure. In the middle of the board was a faded picture of Dr. Medusa's face. With the last piece of information put into place he had completed research that had been prolonged for fifteenth years.

Unpronounced to his friends Stein had been investigating into the disappearance of Spirit's missing child. Whatever people like to say about him he wasn't heartless. Seeing his best friend so upset and the police's investigating coming to a complete halt. He decided to put some of his energy and time into the investigation. Like so many before him he soon found his case growing cold.

Most of what he found out about the woman who stole the child was already common knowledge. Medusa Gorgon, a female doctor in her thirties had been the idealistic doctor. Kind, cheerful, and always upbeat she had been working in Death City Hospital for several years. Her specialty was with the cardiovascular system diseases and surgeries, but she had been known to help out with other operations. Been pregnant before the kidnapping, but given birth to a son which she traded for the girl for unknown reasons. The parents never met the woman must less had fallout with her. No known criminal records and no reason to take the girl.

That's what got everyone so baffled. Why would a well to do doctor just take another mother's child? She didn't seem to care if her child was a boy or girl. Of course, nobody could have read her mind and there were no visual signs of mental illness.

The professor did his own little digging with little to show for. Born somewhere in Greece, she moved to the U.S to earn a medical degree. She managed to get into Harvard and graduated at the top of her class. Of the classmates he was able to find, they all had a positive outlook on her. Smart, polite, and sweet were the common words he heard. Though, they all agreed on the fact she had a strange obsession with snakes. It wasn't exactly unhealthy, but a little unnerving at times.

From there he couldn't found any paper trail. No insurance, no driving license, no medical history, or anything that would tell the government that she existed. Heck, unless the IRS suddenly started to slack off on their job it would seem as if the woman doesn't even pay her taxes. If she had something to hide she somehow made sure that no one would found whatever it was.

After a few more months of fruitless searching the professor gave up. He rather had not done so, but when there were no leads there were no leads. Concluding that his investigating days were over, he took the board and placed it in his attic. He pretty much left all of his findings on it for age and mildew to take care of it.

Truthfully, he had forgotten all about the board until a few months ago. Once Sid and his team came back from Mexico the group handed in their reports. That was nothing out of the norm. It was also not unusually to have the teacher of two meisters to look the reports over. It was sort of an unofficial protocol among the teachers to keep track of their student's progress.

So imagination his surprise, sitting at his desk at the school, smoking a cigarette, when a name he hadn't heard of in a long time suddenly popped up. Medusa. Lady Medusa was what the werewolf, Free, used but it matter little. The young scythe meister wrote the slip up as a witch who was in command of the demon swordsman or swordswoman as the kishin wished to be called. Something in the back of his mind made him read the report over again. Every time he reread it he felt like he was gasping for a key that was just out of reach.

For the next few months after, he had a haunting feeling telling him that he was close to solving a mystery. Exactly what he wasn't sure until he read the recent report of a student who encountered the demon swordswoman. A name was placed to the kishin. A name which he remembered a friend telling him was going to be the name of his little girl.

He practically sprinted all the way home to extract the board from under a pile of boxes. Due to luck and a nearby heat vent most of the papers and pictures were in retrievable condition. The papers may be yellow and wrinkled, but they were legible. And with a new lead to follow, no matter have implausible it may seem, he reopened the case.

For the past week he been making phone calls to every connection he had to gather information. In the end he believed he might have solved a fifteenth years old cold case. No wonder why nobody could find anything on the woman. What they had been searching for was a derange doctor who took a new born child for no apparent reason. Not a witch who how outlived many human lives. To figure out anything about this witch it would take many pieces to see the whole of the picture.

There was no way of dating Medusa's age, but the first recorded sighting of her dated back to the eighteen century, during the American Revolutionary War. It took some doing, but he managed to put together a person who looked much like that in the picture in front of him. A woman in her thirties with spiked, blond hair and yellow eyes cared to George Washington's men when he was at Valley Forge. What she did exactly wasn't clear, but one account credited her with the idea of vaccination against small pox.

From than on she seemed to appear throughout history during times of war and disease. Sometime she would be at the battle lines while at different times in the middle of an epidemic. She had been to plenty of collages and universities that focus on the medical field. He found an account where a doctor was treating a woman that looked similar to Medusa for severe burns. Creditability to the account was impossible to place, but everything he dug up wasn't easily creditable.

As more of the doctor's history became known the motive of kidnapping the girl became more or less clear. Though she gave birth to her own child, for whatever reason she deemed him unworthy for what she had in mind. Most likely out of luck she learned that a daughter of a powerful meister and death scythe was just born in her hospital. Seeing a great opportunity, she stole the child while at the same time getting rid of a burden.

That burden was now known as Crona Albarn. That thought caused the professor to pause from his examination and took a cigarette out of his lab coat pocket. He lit it and took in a deep breath to relax his nerves. As the smoke depressing effect took hold he dared to think of the pinked-hair boy in a new light.

He had always known that Crona was not like everybody else. Several peeks at his soul told him he wasn't human, but he chose to dismiss that little fact. Why upset people over a minor thing as that? He couldn't say he knew the boy all his life, but he knew enough about him to tell that he was no threat. So what if he was a witch. Anyone who knew him would have known he was a good kid who tends to keep his own company.

However, now that the professor knew who was most likely Crona's biological mother. A closer eye on the child wouldn't hurt. He showed no signs of a typical warlock, but if he started to do magic out of the blue. Someone needed to be near by so no harm is done. He doubted it will happen, but better safe than sorry.

Back to the main subject of his study his gazed started to linger on the right side of the board. This side enabled him to make some sense of the left. Maka, the demon swordsman, was in her teens and about Crona's age. However, she had been terrifying the world for at least seven years. First confirmed report of her came after a playground of children and their parents had been slaughter. After that any children fatality done by her is unknown, but without any problem she had murdered dozens, maybe even hundreds of people.

Her powers seemed to be base on sound and blood. How convenient that a doctor who was a specialist in blood would later turn up to be a witch who had a minion who can use her blood to kill. The same doctor also just happened to go to a school that is known for its research. Stein actually found that Dr. Medusa had done some research while she was there. On the surface it appeared that she was trying to find an easy and effective way to thicken the blood for those who had thrombocytopenia- meaning that there isn't enough platelet- blood cells that clot- in the blood stream. But what if she was doing more than just being a well intended scientist looking for a cure?

If Dr. Medusa was Medusa the witch, than it would make sense why history saw her in hostile environments. As an old saying goes the best school for a surgeon was that of the battlefield. Back in ancient times and up to more modern times that saying held much truth. If a doctor wanted to study the human body they would need to go to where the sick and died were. Back than, without hospitals and funded schools, these places would be battlefields, disease ridden cites, and graveyards. Research would need to be done in secret so the superstitious people of the past didn't get upset. However, Medusa could have researched on the black blood for several centuries. Like humans she was most likely force to use what she had throughout the ages. Only in recent times with the advancements of science and technology could she finally put her research into action.

There were a lot of ifs in his theory but without talking to the kishin or Medusa herself. This board of loose connecting evidences was all he got to connect two completely different things together. It hadn't slipped Stein's mind that he might be grasping straws, but he was sure he was on the right track. The missing little girl from so long ago have been turn into an insane, killing machine. And the culprit of this horrible crime was none other than Dr. Medusa Gorgon.

Taking in another deep breath of smoke, he felt the nicotine relax his nerves. He had heard of recent research that said that smoking cigarettes can shorten a life span greatly. At the moment he couldn't care less. Right now he needed something to take his mind off of a decision he had to make. "To tell or not to tell," he said, changing up an old quote he heard long ago. "That is the question."

Biting down on the cigarette, he bent it in half. "But how do you tell your best friend that your little girl is a monster?" In reality, it wasn't that hard. It was the reaction that followed was what made the telling so difficult.

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><p>Mulleb: Can't say I love this chapter, but it could be worst.<p>

Daisy: It could be a lot worst. Just yesterday I went over to another story and at first I thought a kindergartener wrote it until things got... *Shuddered* weird.

Mulleb: I'll take your word for it.

Crona: *Come running in, looking as if he seen a ghost* Mulleb! We got a problem!

Mulleb: * Turn to face Crona* There you are. Where have you been?

Crona: I'm really sorry, but I got hold up by a talking pony.

Daisy: Talking ponies? Doesn't this universe have talking animals?

Crona: We do, but there is something wrong with this pony.

Mulleb: *Sighing* Let me guess. This pony can use magic, have a image on it flank, and look to come from a cartoon.

Crona: *Blinking* How do you know?

Mulleb: I was hoping to hold off the announcement, but since you're panicking I might as will tell you that Miss Twlight Sparkle will be coming in soon.

Crona: Twlight Sparkle from My Little Pony?

Mulleb: Yes, that the one. Since there was just a fuss over it I thought to take a look at it. *Sheepish smile* Guess this make me a brony, but I liked it. And after several months of seeing it I thought to write a fanfic for the show. Don't know why, but than again I don't know why I even wrote this story.

Daisy: Yeah! Ponies!

Mulleb: Though let make one think clear I'm not abandoning this story. I'm enjoying writing this story and I will see it to the end.

Daisy: Same here! Oh, and please leave a review. Flames, good criticism, and comments are welcome.


	13. Chapter 12

Mulleb: *Looking at a list* Now let see, the drinks are over here and the food over there. Music would be nice, but I wonder if we can something that isn't so boring.

Daisy: What about the decoration? We need flowers, balloons, streamers and all that fun stuff.

Mulleb: Daisy, this is a formal gathering. I don't think... *Notice readers.* Hello, don't mind us. We're just setting up for something for later on. Just out curiosity anyone know a good singer?

Black*Star: *Appeared out of nowhere with a microphone.* The amazing Black*Star is here to amaze you with his musical talent.

Mulleb: I need a singer not a loudmouth assassin. Beside, if you were going to sing I would think hard rock would be your genre. All they have to do is make a lot of noise.

Black*Star: *Paying Mulleb no mind started singing. Sounds like someone forcing a fork through a meat grinder.*

Mulleb: *Covers the assassin's mouth.* As I said before, singing for the wrong genre.

Daisy: *Giggle* Better get things going. Hope you guys enjoy the read.

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><p>Chapter Twelve<p>

It was amazing how the blistering heat of a desert day can turn into a chilling night within minutes. Considering that there wasn't anything but sand to contain the heat, it shouldn't be that surprising. However, this fact doesn't damper the awe effect it can have on a person. Sands that burned the sole of bare feet cool off within minutes. Dry heated air that produce so much sweat turn into a chilling cold that sap away one strength. The craze moon with it smaller companies looked indifferently at the desert floor as creatures as hostile as the land they live in come out to feast.

It doesn't take the stretch of the imagination to see why the ancient Egyptians saw the desert as the land of the dead. Day or night those who were unprepared can perish within hours. Those who do die could easily disappear without a trace. Scavengers would dine on the flesh tilled it was picked to the bone. Bones and equipment buried by the blowing sands to be lost to history unless some wondering soul came along the remains by accident. When this does happen than it serve as a remainder to what happens to those who underestimate the desert's wrath.

Riding a top of a one hump camel, a woman wearing a white robe and turban that covered most of her face scanned the area with yellow eyes. Though she planned only to be out here for several hours, the camel was packed as if she was going on a weeklong trip. The possibility wasn't unlikely for it was sandstorm season. Sandstorms were more likely to happen in the day than at night, but they can strike at any time without warning. She was ready to hunker down in a tent or even a blanket for several days if need be.

The camel she was on went at a slow but steady pace. Though she was in a bit of a hurry, the woman did not wish to over tax the beast. Already she had forced it to canter for many miles and though camels were famous for going without water for weeks. Much like a horse they can be run into the ground due to a careless rider.

All of the sudden the camel let out a loud shriek as it tried to back up. She yanked at its reigns as she whispered, "Damn beast." For several more seconds the camel tried to rear away from something, but she finally managed to stop it. As much as she was tempted to force the camel forward past experience told her to check what had frightened it.

She heard it first before spotting the serpent. Sitting on its coils and getting into striking position, a large cobra reared upward. It hissed loudly at the camel while at the same time displaying two large, venomous fangs. Not too far from the cobra a hank laid on it back; one of its legs twitched violently. It would seemed they stumbled upon the serpent as it was about to eat its meal.

Those two cold, slit eyes challenge the two intruders that showed no signs of leaving. The woman doesn't plan on going around. With her own set of cold eyes she stared at the serpent as she let out a sharp hiss that sounded much like a snake. For a moment the camel almost went into a panic, thinking that there was an unknown danger on its back. As she worked on controlling the camel the cobra stopped coiling up. It now stared at the woman with the curiosity of suddenly founding one of its own.

For a few tense minutes the three kept in place as each ponder over the other. The woman gave one more hiss that wasn't as threatening as the first. This time the camel didn't panic, but was still a little edgy.

The snake stared at them for a few more seconds before darting off somewhere into the night. Once it realized that they only wish to pass the cobra will return to retrieve it meal before any other creature does. By the time it does so, they would be long gone and more than happy to leave the serpent in peace.

Though, the woman does wish she could have more time examining it. Like the cobra she may like the heat, but it was too hot during the day for her liking. Whenever she could she would avoid desert's sun for some shade. The nights weren't much better, but it was easier to warm up than it was to cool down.

For another half hour she and her mount walked across the endless sea of sand dunes with no land marks in sight. Then she saw the reason she came out here. Her eyes had already adjusted to the night, but she couldn't see much detail of the structure in front of her. Of what she could see was the front of a massive lion with what resembled something of a human head. "Protector of the pyramids," she said with a chuckle. "They should have stayed with the attack dog."

As she came closer she could easily identify the structure before her, the great Sphinx of Giza. For centuries the statue had been buried in sand its head the only thing left above ground. Several decades back mankind had finally recovered its body from the desert. Weathered stone, a missing nose and beard told of the beating that nature and man had done to it. However, like the pyramids off in the distance the Sphinx had stood the test of time to show the present the creativity and skills of ancients. No one knew its original propose, not even the oldest of witches and warlocks can recall, but it had caught the imagination of all who had seen it.

In Medusa own opinion she found it quite amusing. To her the Sphinx served as an example of how mankind wished to become something more than the pathetic beings they are. Fusing the head of a man to that of a loin combined nature greatest weapons. Intelligences, speed, and strength pulled together to form a deadly predator. Sadly, this monstrosity would suffer the handicap of having a body which restricted its full potential. Without opposable thumbs humans would have a hardy time of doing much of anything.

Putting personal thoughts aside, she turned her attention on a lone spark of light residing between the statue's legs. The dull glow of a fire served as a beacon and hope for some warmth. A small part of her cursed the idiot for leaving the fire in just an expose position. However, she knew at this hour few people were going to be out here and those who are will think nothing of it. Ever since the Sphinx had been resurfaced there been a varied of people coming out here at ungodly hours in vain attempts to found treasure.

In a sense, she was doing the exact same thing. Hopefully, her search will yield a better result than those who came before her. After several hours of darkness the small camp fire was a bit blinding, but her eyes adjusted as she came nearer. Now several yards from the fire she could make out an olive skin man by it, sitting with his legs cross. He was sitting his back to her, but the flames at less revel that he was wearing a long sleeve, white clock. "Adrien," she shouted, alerting the man of her presence, "is that you?"

"It's me witch," replied the man. "Come by the fire. The night is cold and it will be easier to see your face."

Medusa rather not let the man see her face, but with the turban shielding it. She lead the camel around the campfire until she was opposite of the man. At the moment he was tending to the fire. A pile of good size logs were placed a way to his right. With a stick he positioned a log in the fire so enough oxygen can get to the flames. Once he got the log into place he stabbed the flaming end of the stick into the sands.

"So you're my employer," he said, keeping his eyes on the flames. "I would say it was nice to meet you, but then I would be lying."

As she got off her mount Medusa said, "Can't say I'm too happy about being out here either." Adrien acknowledged the statement with a nod of his head.

"I did what you ask," he stated, peevishly. "I searched for this blasted god the best I could." Lifting his head to stare into the witch's eyes, a small flame of anger shined in his wry pupils. "And if you're not happy for what I done than blame no one but yourself for sending me on this wild goose chase."

For a moment the witch just stood there the turban hiding the backlash she wanted to give the man. However, as she looked him over there were signs of hardship. His clothing was dirty and rumpled, a few fresh, ugly scars were on his hands, and a hungry look of the starving was displayed on his face clearer. It would seem he had taken his job seriously. If by some luck he found who she wanted an award would be in order.

"I'm sorry for any hardship that had fallen upon you," she said. "Believe it or not the man I'm after is real." Turning her head around to look at the statue, she said, "And I do believe you must have found something. Be pointless to call me here if you hadn't."

Grunting, the man looked back at the fire. "People said that fairy tales and myths have a little truth in them. A little, but if this guy you're looking for is a warlock..." He paused for a moment. At first, the witch mistake the laughter as hysteria, but it soon settled into a soft chuckle. "Probably doesn't matter anymore, but some of those myths might be true."

"Anyway," he said with a shake of his head, "like your messenger had told me to do I believe I have found the guy. Be nice if she had some article of clothing which he had worn. It would have made the search go a lot easier." Picking up the stick, he stirred the embers as he talked. "Climbed a bloody mountain in vain and then spent months traveling Greece for some clue. I caught a break when I saw a shield in a museum at Athens. Can't remember what it called, but it the one with Medusa's head on it which was said to belong to the guy."

At the mention of her name the witch twitched an eyebrow in annoyance. "Moment I saw the thing I got this strange vibe." A small smile crept on his face as he said, "Not sure how it works, but some witch I help out some time ago was nice enough to give me a gift. Turn me into a human bloodhound. Whenever I feel as if I'm closing in on what I'm looking for I get this vibe."

Peering up from the fire, the smile was replaced by a frown. "The vibe was weak and the only way to make it stronger was to get the shield itself. Every tried to steal something from a high class museum." A quick glance at his hands got Medusa to wonder how he got them. "Wasn't easy and I had half of Greece's police force after me, but I managed to escape at a port not too far from Athens. Had to pay the greedy bastard most of the gold you gave me to come to this dust bowl."

"I'll take it that this vibe told you that he is here," she asked, a little skeptical.

Anger flared up in his eyes again, but he controlled the tone of his voice. "After ditching the shield at a village, which I will return to," he added hastily. A gleam in the witch's eyes made him a little uncomfortable. "I followed the vibe until the trial end here." Looking up at the Sphinx, he said, "In a way it's like one of those myths. When the Greece gods were fighting the Titans they fled to Egypt and turn into animal-human hybrids to hide from their enemies."

Nodding her head, Medusa said, "That would a bit ironic to find a powerful god hiding within a statue just as this." The man gave a nod, but chose to keep quiet. "Take this," she said, holding out the mount's reigns. Doing as she said, Adrien stood by the camel as he silently watched the witch.

Once she had handed off the reigns, she went over to the fire and took out a flaming piece of wood that was still intact. With her own light source she walked away from the fire toward the nearest stone, which would be the left paw. At the paw she would put the flame as near to it as possible to examine every grain. She traced her fingers among the many grooves and crack of the hard, gritty stone in hope of founding something.

For several hours this was all she did. Going over the statue, she careful looked over the area of stone which the flame allowed her to view, inch by inch. Sometime she would scratch a bit at the rock, but all this served to do was frustrate her. For a while all the man could see of her was the flame, but then she would disappear from view for so long that he wondered if she had left. However, the torch she used would not lost long and she was force to get a new one ever half an hour or so.

By the time the witch had finished her examination Adrien was struggling to stay awake. The camel had done nothing more than pawed at the ground and was now asleep. "It would seem that this statue had been disturbed," said a smug witch as she return to the fire.

"No offense," said the man after a yawn, "but that is obvious for anyone to see."

"I do not mean the nose, but never mind that. It would be easier to show you than explain. Be quick and grab a torch. The night is growing old and if I'm right we don't want to waste any more time."

Shrugging, he grabbed a stick from the fire and yanked at the camel's reigns to wake it up. Once it was awake he followed the woman to the front of the right paw. "Shine the light over here," she said. Obeying the command, he soon saw what anyone else would see, weathered, yellowed stone. "See this right here," she said, pointing to a strange marking. Three shallow, round depressions organize in a small triangle was what he made out.

"It sort of look like a triangle," he said, not sure why she was excited about it.

"It's also the Greek letter for delta," she said as she traced the triangle with her index finger.

"So there a mark that looks similar to something in real life. Big deal."

"This wasn't created by nature," she stated, growing tired of his ignorance. "In fact, this mark shouldn't exist. It's a long shot, but I wonder what would happen if I put some magic into it." Placing her palm over the marking, it glow a light violet as she pumped a little of her magic into the stone.

All of the sudden the camel started to rear away as it made a deep, throaty, gurgling sound. Adrien tugged at the reigns to keep it at bay, but he understood the animal. Something about this doesn't feel right. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked, not noticing he was shouting.

Before she could answer sparks of electricity attacked her hand. Yelping in surprise, she yanked her hand back as the triangle begun to glow an electric blue. The mark started to resemble the symbol delta as the glow become more prominent and more symbols were appearing. However, those new letters weren't Greek. "Witch writing," exclaimed the man as stumble back. The letters encircled the entire statue until it was almost impossible to see through the brilliant light. Adrien and Medusa were force to cover their eyes from the harsh glow. If it wasn't for the light they would have seen that even the Sphinx's eyes were glowing.

The camel started to kick it legs as it let out a terrified shriek. The ground under their feet begun to shake as dark, ominous clouds formed overhead. Lightning laced the sky while thunder roared with just ferocity that it scared the camel stiff. No rain fell onto the parched sands, but lightning jabbed at the earth, leaving behind smooth surface of glass wherever it strikes. From a distance a northerly wind howled as it started to pick up sand.

Standing there, stiff as boards, the witch and man looked about them in a feeble attempt to find shelter. However, Adrien notice that at the base of the Sphinx's chest a bright blue line outlined what might be an entrance. He tried to shout to the witch, but the wind tossed his words away and thunder rendered them deaf. So he waved the torch and pointed in the direction of the possible door.

It took several seconds to get her attention, but when she did she acknowledge his actions with a nod of her head. Getting the camel to move an inch took all the strength they got to encourage it. Yet, they managed to get to the Sphinx's chest. Medusa only had to look at the phenomenon once to understand what going on.

Whoever made this spell hoped to district anyone from noticing his or her leaving while at the same time make sure no one would find this entrance. Pushing her hand against the stone, she sent a pulse of her magic through it. A faint metallic clank came from within and the stone wall in front of them slid upward. A dark passageway was what waited for them but neither thought twice about dashing inside. Though the camel resisted being pulled in, another flash of lighting and clash of thunder convince it that it was safer inside. As soon as the camel came through the door, the wall slammed into place, cutting them off from the lighting storm that the witch conjured.

For a minute or two both of them sat on the floor to catch their breath. Sometime during the madness Adrien had dropped the torch. They could still hear the storm, but the thick walls muffled the sounds greatly. "What just happen?" asked Adrien as his heart started to beat at a more reasonable pace.

"Not sure," breathed the witch, "must have activated an old security system or we somehow angry the gods."

"I like to believe the sooner than the later," said the man as he got to his feet. Taking a good look around, his pupils adjusted to the dim, yellow light that seemed emanated from the walls. A frown set into place as he looked over to the camel. The animal had had enough with today's terrors and decided to lie down and tuck it head between the wall and right foreleg. "This doesn't seem like ancient Egyptian architecture."

The passageway they were in was wide enough for the two humanoids and a camel, but because of the animal it was a snug fit. Due to the fact that the passageway was inside there was no signs of weathering. However, instead of yellowed stone there were polish marble. There were pictures on the walls, but they weren't hieroglyphics. It was hard to tell with the dim light, but it looked like a mural of a battle between ancient Greek soldiers and monsters. Watching over them from the heavens was what most likely the Greek gods.

"Think anyone is home?" asked Medusa with a smug smile.

"Seem as if no one had been here since it was sealed off," he said as he took a closer look at the walls. "Or maintenance had been kept up by someone."

Getting to her feet, the witch said, "I think I'll go in search for our maintenance man. You'll stay here and keep the camel company."

"Wait," he exclaimed, "you want to wander into God know what without even a light." She didn't bother to reply. As she walked off Adrien muttered to himself, "Stay here and hope she come back or go with her in hope of not being killed." A booming sound came deep from within the passageway, scaring the man half to death. "Yeah," he called out to the unfazed witch, "probably be best if I stay here. Don't want anyone sneaking in behind us." For a moment he thought he heard the witch said something, but by now the darkness enveloped her like a shard.

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><p><em>The air in here is saturated, but not musky, <em>thought the witch as she walked. For a place that been sealed off for millenniums the air smelled fresh. An air vent would be the answer to this, but it would seem like a hassle to build one. She doubted whoever built the statue intended to conceal anything. The passageway must have been constructed at a later date. Based on the walls she would guess sometime during classical Greece, but that was a random guess on limited data.

Though she could hardly see the floor, her bare feet could feel a cool, smooth surface. Excusing the early booming sound, the place was died quiet. Dim yellow light was consent as she walked, but the mural on the walls did change. She hadn't paid must attention to it. From time to time she would glance over at it to check if she was making any sort of progress. Last she looked the scene was that of a bustling town in an ancient Greek city. Perhaps ten minutes later, it was impossible to tell time, she glanced over at the mural again.

_Those are Romans soldiers, _she thought. Human history doesn't impress her, but once in a while she brushes up on it to refresh her memories. The scene before her was of a Roman legion, men wearing steel cap helmets and breastplates while wielding short swords and large rectangular shields, chasing after the fleeing Greek army through a mountain pass. The gods overhead looked down at the mortals with neutral expressions.

She didn't slow her pace, but more often than not she found herself checking the mural. It would appear to be telling Greece's history throughout the ages. For a while the wall told of Roman occupation with the only real change was when Christianity appeared. Then came the fall of the great empire and soon it was under the new rule of Byzantine. Barbadian invaders came and went and times turn from classic to that of medieval. The Turks came along with the raise of the Ottoman Empire. For a while the Greeks were under their palm until nationalism came along to inspire revolution and the creation of modern Greece. Than the two World Wars brought it destruction and the rest of the scene were of present time.

During all this time the gods watched over the country up until sometime during the medieval era. One moment they were there and the next the skies were clear. It would seem the old gods had forsaken their homeland. However, she got a feeling that they left reluctantly.

Paying more attention to the wall rather to where she was walking. She run into something and stumbled back a bit. Shaking off the stunned feeling, she looked in front of her to find a large square door. Among all the marble the modern looking door with its bronze knob look out of place. There was nothing out of the usual about them. Just a simple doors one would be greeted with at the standard home.

All she wanted to do was knocked the door off its hinges. However, a balled fist racked the wood several times. The sound it created echoed throughout the passageway. From within she heard the faintest of clicks. She took a step back as they slowly creek open as a gust of warm, humid air rushed out of the room, carrying dust with it.

Holding her ground, she stared into ink black darkness. It was the type of darkness that can conceal a person's hand only an inch away from one face. Without hesitation she walked into the room with haste. The moment she stepped in she could feel the electricity in the air. The hair on her neck involuntarily stood up on its ends. Somewhere in the darkness she could hear the deep, even breathing of a giant.

After walking what she guessed a hundred feet she came to a stop. "Is this how you greet visitors," she yelled, her voice seeming small due to the darkness.

A deep rumbling sound that shook the earth startled her slightly. It took her a moment to recognize the sound as laughter. "Visitors are invited," proclaimed a booming voice, "not breaking into a person's home like a common thief."

_Where is he_, she thought as she tried to look around. The voice echoed off the walls, making it impossible to pinpoint. "I did not meant to greet you in just a manner," she called out in what she hope was the right direction. "But no one knew where you were and this was the only way we could meet." A streak of lightning lit the room long enough for her to see that she was lucky that she didn't crash into anything. There was no way to tell if the place was cluttered with stuff, but she could tell there were a lot of items around her. "Was that supposed to scare me," she asked her voice as cold as her demeanor.

"Needed a better look at the woman who entered my domain," answered the voice with a trace of humor. "Ready yourself. I'm about to turn the lights on." Medusa felt the static electricity move away from her as large sparks started to form. They gathered into a sphere of electric blue overhead, creating a crackling sound as it fried the air. With a snap of a finger that sounded like thunder the sphere exploded into multiple thin lines of lightning. The lightning bolts flew through the air to strike something out of sight. A quiet hum of a generator broke the silence. One by one large, brilliant light bulbs flashed on to bathed every corner of the room.

Using an arm to shield her eyes, she was momentarily blinded until her eyes adjusted to the light. Even than, the light was so bright that it was painful to keep them open. Lowering her arm, she found herself in a humongous room design like that of a Greek temple. Two rows of gold painted pillars connected the Persian rug covered floors to a ceiling that was hundreds of feet from the ground. On the white walls were paintings from throughout the ages while the ceiling was painted to look like the starry night sky.

The room itself seemed to be a living area combine with a garage. In one corner of the room luxuries cars, boats, and planes were set neatly in place. To the witch's right was a nice living room set of a television, lazy chair, radio, and coffee table, which was covered in newspapers and magazines. To her left was a nice size swimming pool which was dwarfed by the room it was in. Off in the distance she could see a set of stuff animal heads with an arsenal of guns under them. There also was a decent kitchen and dining area not too far away, but none of this got her attention.

Off in the distance was literally a giant of man sitting in an equally large throne of marble. Though he was far away many of his features were noticeable. Neatly combed, cloud white hair and trimmed bread accompanied by stormy gray eyes give that tanned face an ageless look. He wore the suit of a lawyer, but one could see the toned muscle underneath. A crooked nose didn't take away the fact that he was handsome, but it did make him look a bit rugged.

His mouth was turn up into a smile, but the warmth did not reach his eyes. "Look who we have here," said the giant. "I might be wrong, but..." Standing up, his head nearly brushed the ceiling and those mammoth, black, dress shoes doesn't seem to have enough room to not step on something. A single step he took covered several dozen yards. However, as he walked toward the witch he begun to shrink to normal size and by the time he reached her he was a tall man that was pushing seven feet.

"Take off the turban," he ordered, "I know it's you Medusa." Her eyes blinked in surprise. "When I heard your voice I was almost certain who it was." Pointing to her eyes, he added, "It's impossible for me to mistake those soulless peepers.

"I'm surprise that you remember me," she said as she pulled the turban off.

"Hard to forget the girl who threatened to feed me to her snakes when I make a move on her," he said as a hand reach into one of his pockets. From it he took out a fat, Cuban cigar and placed it between his lips. Snapping his fingers near the end of the cigar, a spark set it a light. He breath in deeply a couple of times before he said, "Would you like one?"

"No thank you," she said, feeling incline to take a step back. "Lasting bodies work better when one don't tear them down."

Shrugging, he placed his hands into his pant pockets as he said, "Suit yourself. So tell me why all of the sudden you are seeking me out?" Before she could utter a word he said, "Let me guess. The conspiracy against Maba is gaining momentum." Disappearing within a cloud of smoke, he reappeared overhead his feet standing on thin air. "And to make this conspiracy concert the power of the most powerful man of Europe is needed."

"I see that your ego hadn't change Zeus," she called out to the god.

"But I'm right aren't I." Disappearing once more, he soon stood only an inch behind Medusa. One of his massive hands gripped the witch on the shoulder. "Why else would you waste your time? Last I remember..." Medusa spun around to face him, but again he left with little trace. The splashing of water to her left brought her eyes onto Zeus in the pool. He was laying on a body size floaty that wouldn't let his suit get wet. "You hate to waste time."

Snapping his fingers, a wine glass filled with a greenish liquid appeared in his hand. "So why bother to come here when you know that I most likely won't join your little resistance?"

"For an almighty god you sure are a coward," she said with no feeling.

"Please," Zeus said with a snort, "how old do you think I am? My temper had grown a bit cold over the years. You got to do better than that to get under my skin." Taking a sip of his drink, he sighed and grin at the furious look on the witch's face. "Look just like my ex-wife when she finally called for a divorce."

That smirk on the god's face was intolerable, but she kept her mouth shut. There was a reason why the ancient Greeks consider Zeus as the ruler of the gods. His strength had been exaggerated, but she knew it wasn't base on simple rumor. To him she was nothing more than a bug. Something to amuse him until he either get bored or annoyed with her.

"You're an exile," she said, her voice becoming as hard as steel. "Banish from your lands by an old hag and a reaper." A lazy eye rolled her way, but she saw a spark in it. "Rulers don't run from their throne when the enemy comes. They stay and conquer or die fighting."

"Were you around when the Huns and barbarians butchered half of the Roman Empire?"

"No, I was not.

"The Romans couldn't run," he said as he traced the edge of his glass with his index finger. "Where could they run to? They ruled the entire known world, but they were powerless in the end to stop what was coming." Taking another sip, he added, "Jack is stuck in the past. He seeks to reclaim what was once his. I on the other hand had learned the hard way that even gods can die. Take Death for example. The humans may not know it, but every reaper expect for the first was a junior. Not to creative when it came to names were they."

"And not too long ago the Death's family was like everyone else. Powerful entities who struggled to keep their place. Their time to rule this world has come, but one day like me they will topple. It's like an old Japanese proverb. For all beautiful things to begin something must end."

"So you think fate control your future?" she said, sounding more like a fact than a question.

He shrugged. "Maybe, but then again I'm an old womanizer with little to look for in life."

"Then at less think about a chance to return to you homeland," she said.

Pausing from taking another drink, the god sat up and said, "Not until Maba is rooted from her castle can I return home."

"Think about this," she said, pointing to the passageway where she came from. "There is a hallway where the history of Greece is told. It's hadn't always been glorious, but it had survive. You have survived and it looked to me you have also thrived. Maba on the other hand had been taking blows over the years. Recently she had lost an eye."

"She have!" exclaimed the god in what only could be called pure surprise.

"You did not know this," she asked, wondering what contacts from the outside world he been using.

"No," he shouted with glee. Appearing right in front of Medusa, he gave the witch a bear hug. "This changes everything."

"Zeus," the witch choked out, "you're crashing me."

"Sorry," he said as he let go of her. "When did she lose her eye?"

Taking in several deep breathes, she wheezed out, "About a century ago. A member of the immortal clan stole her eye. At the moment I have that member working for me to pay off a debt. Not only does he have the eye, but he can also use it on his own free will."

"Fate finally threw me a bone," he proclaimed as he started walking toward the throne.

"So does this mean you're in," asked the witch, following behind the god.

"Not only me," he said as a wired phone appeared in one of his hands. The other hand picked up the receiver and started punching the buttons at a freighting speed. "By the time I'm done calling we'll have an army bearing down on the witch queen's head within a month." Putting the phone to his ear, he waited several seconds for the caller to pick up. "Hades, it's me, Zeus. How are things doing in the mining business?" A furious voice shouted in the god's ears, forcing him to pull the phone away from it. "You're still upset about that? Never mind now, I got great news. Maba's lost one of her eyes and some of our colleagues are planning an attack."

The voice lost it heat to be replaced by a dark chuckle. As Zeus's brother talked the god turned to Medusa and with his head he tilled it toward the door. Understanding that he had no more use for her the witch left him to gather his army.

Back at the entrance into the passageway she found Adrien soundly asleep with his back pressed up against the camel. Shaking him by the shoulder, she said, "Wake up. It's time to leave." It took a minute to rouse him, but slowly he gain conscience. For a moment or two he was confused to where he was. One look at the witch and all the memories came back.

"I'm guessing you found what you wanted," he said as he got up. Stretching a little, he faced the stone wall and said, "Can we even get out?"

Pressing her hand to the wall, a quick jolted of magic opened the door to the outside world. Neither knew how long they had been inside the Sphinx, but several hours have past for the moon was low in the sky- an eyelid drooped over it single eye. The storm from early had complete disappeared. Only signs that it had been here was some newly formed sand dunes. The fire from early was also gone without even the ashes to show where it once had been.

With the camel in tow the two walked toward the end of the paws before Medusa said, "You have done well." Coming to a stop, the man glanced over to the witch. He watched as from within her clock she took out a cloth bag. Tossing it to him, he barely caught it as she said, "Here is the payment as promise. However, if you want some more I do need someone to do a job for me."

"More fairy tale hunting," he said, a little warily.

"No and it should be far less dangerous than the last assignment." From her clock she produced two pieces of papers. One of them was a sheet of a flight schedule while the other was a map of a city. As he looked those over the witch said, "In Cairo there is a plane that will take you to Death City. You have been hired as a janitor at Death's Weapon Meister Academy, because the last janitor had a terrible accident. For a month or so you will get the layout of the place, but until I say so you will do nothing else."

"A sleeping cell agent," said the man with a chuckle. Putting the items he received away in his clock, he said, "Do I have to do anything dangerous?"

"What I may ask is illegal, but if you were caught it wouldn't be life threatening."

After a few minutes of pondering, he said, "When is the flight?"

"Tomorrow evening," she said as she mounted the camel. "Giza isn't too far from her. Walk into town and call a taxi. I'm sure you can found someone who can drive you to the capital."

"Wait a moment," he called out as she begun to leave. "How are you going to contact me when it is time for whatever?"

"Don't worry," she called back, not bothering to turn her head, "you'll know the sign when you see it."

By now spring had started in most of the southern hemisphere. In Antarctica, however, spring meant that for another half of the year it would be warmer. Too many of the animals that called this place home knew this time of the year better as when the ice melt. The endless sea of white and gray give way to the dark, cold waters of the sea- a plentiful food source which life can thrive on open up. Nobody knew this better than Jack Frost.

After carefully making his way to the glacier edge he took a seat and threw his fishing line into the waters below. Like any fisherman who had been fishing for many years he sat in silence, keeping himself occupied as he fished. Every once in a while he would get a bite at the end of his line and he would reel the fish up within seconds. Once he got the fish in hand he would unhook it and threw into the plastic bucket right beside him. An advantage of living out here was that there is no size limit to what he caught. There may be governments that claimed pieces of the barren ice land, but he had been here long before the first man set foot on the ice. Until his supplies from South America came in he would catch any fish he wants.

Besides, only law enforcement was self-employed. Not like it was needed. Most deaths around here were natural or accidental. A shrill cry somewhere behind him got the old man's attention. Peering behind his back as he reeled in another fish, he saw something that doesn't belong.

Flying his way, of all things was an eagle. Not sure what kind, but the large, brown bird must be freezing. It was definitely tired for its wings were beating slowly and its head was drooping slightly. In one of it talon feet was a rolled up piece of paper. Jack was so distracted by the sight that he didn't notice the fish until it smack him in the face. "Damn fish," he muttered as he reached out for the struggling cod. By the time he got it off the hook the bird land right beside him.

The claw holding the paper was pulled up so it wouldn't get soak by melting ice. The bird was having a hell of a time standing on one foot. Having pity on it, he placed the still flopping fish in front of it as his other hand took the piece of paper. It looked at him with a look that as close as grateful a raptor could be before tearing into the fish's flesh.

Ignoring the carnage that was unfolding, Jack opened the piece of paper to found another surprise. A small smile formed on his leathery face. "So the devil got the gears working." Crumbling the piece of paper into a ball, he tossed it over the glacier edge and watched it disappear into the water. "Just wait for the sign before making our move," he said with a chuckle. "What bigger sign do I need than a kishin being release?"

"But did they have to send you," he asked, turning his attention on the eagle. It was still busy gulping down bloody pieces of meat. Wasn't a pretty sight, but the old man wasn't disturb by it. "I would offer you a warm place to stay, but it probably wouldn't do."

After baiting his hook and throwing the line into the water, he fished for a couple of hours. By the time he was done the eagle had taken flight. What was left of the fish was a meal for the birds to fight over. With no reason to stick around he headed home with a bucket full of fresh fish as his mind plotted on how the overthrow of a ruler should go.

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><p>Black*Star: So what in the world is Medusa doing? How is getting a bunch of geezers together going to help her free the kishin?<p>

Mulleb: Haven't you been paying attention to the story?

Black*Star: Only the parts that include me. *Put on cheesy grin.*

Mulleb: *Rolls his eyes.* It all make sense later on. I think. Man, I really wish that I can write faster. One of the fun part of the story is near at hand.

Black*Star: Fun part?

Mulleb: What? I having fun writing this in general, but I got to admit some parts are better than others.

Black*Star: Well it includes me?

Mulleb: Yes, it well, but don't think...

Black*Star: Alright! Stop writing this lame Author note and go right the next chapter already.

Mulleb: *Twitched an eyebrow in annoyance.* Well, as always may the readers please review. Reviews does motivate me to write faster if nothing else. Good criticism, flames, and any funny comments are welcome. How a good day!


	14. Chapter 13

Daisy: *On her knees she was scratching a pit bull behind the ears. It had its tongue sticking out and wagging its tail rapidly.* Whose a good boy? Whose a good boy? You are!

Black*Star: *Rolled his eyes.* What so great about the mutt? He's just like any other dog you found out on the street. Why don't she spend some time with a real star like me?

Maka: *Reading a book.* Leave her alone. It bad enough that I'm stuck with Ragnarok. I rather not spend my free time hearing you boast about yourself.

Black*Star: Why not?

Maka: Because I willing to bet that the dog can easily took you down.

Black*Star: *Laughing.* Yeah right! Hey Daisy! *Daisy looked over to him.* Can that dog attack people?

Daisy: *Shake heads.* He doesn't attack people he protected them, but I can give him the command so he will do so.

Black*Star: Than set that mutt on me. I bet I can tame him under a minute. *Daisy looked uncertain.* Don't worry. I be perfectly fine. *Shrugging, the girl whispered a few words to the dog. It started to growl and after she pointed at Black*Star it attack. The assassin stood there like an idiot and actually tried to wrestle with it. Needless to say, it was a one side battle.*

Maka: *Reading her back while ignoring the fight.* Warning to readers the next few chapter will be more or less fillers. However, hope you guys enjoy the read.

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><p>Chapter Thirteen<p>

"Class, today we will be dissecting infant tiger sharks," said Professor Stein as a hand gesture to a several gallon plastic bucket. Sitting in his chair backward, the professor was in front of his desk. His class stared at him with a mix of disgust, wonder, and glee. A scythe meister and his partner in the middle row pondered on the thought on where their teacher got a bucket full of tiger sharks. Kid, who sat beside Soul, shrugged his shoulders indifferently. In front of them the Thompson sisters proved once more they were two completely different people. Patty was more than edger to slice up the shark while her sister encouraged her to do all the work. The egoist assassin in the back row... was too busy gloating about a new weapon from that his partner gained to pay any mind. His partner, as always, dutifully paid attention to their professor. To Tsubaki's left were Clair and her partner. Treou muttered something about fish oil while the mute was daydreaming.

"I would give the option of individual or group dissection, but unfortunately I wasn't able to get enough specimens. So pick your partner and choose between the two or three of you who will receive your group's shark." Asking the students to break up into groups was kind of pointless. Almost every time the groups would be made up of the meister and his or her weapon. That's how it turned out this time as well.

After a hastily made line was form in front of the teacher, he took the lid off of the container. A pungent odor assaulted the nostrils of those who were closest to it. More than a few students winkled their noses in distain. Unfazed by the smell Stein reached into the bucket to pull out a small, whitish shark. Except for the discolored skin the fish looked to be in perfect shape.

Small enough to be held in one hand the shark doesn't seem as threaten as it should be. "This is Galeocerdo cuvieror better known as the tiger shark. Due to its age and chemicals we won't be able to see the strips which give its name. However, the infant is structurally identical to its older kin." Running his free hand down the shark's flank, he said, "With that said handle your specimen with caution. Don't put your hand in its mouth." His hand stop at its tail and with his middle finger he tried to rub it the other way. Barely going an inch, he put it up to show a small cut. "And be careful not to rub your hand the wrong way. Their rough skin can tear off flesh easily."

As Stein went back to his desk to prepare his fish for dissection- and to get a bandage for his finger- each student got their shark and return to their desk without anyone being harmed. Placing the fish on his dissection tray, Treou glared at it as he whipped his hands on a nearby table cloth. "Fish. Of all things we get to cut up it have to be a fish."

His partner didn't even give him a nod. Leaning on her elbows, she was too busy watching a certain albino a couple rows down. Her view was block by two fingers snapping together. "If you're that gaga over him," said Treou as the mute glared at him, "why not ask him to DWMA founding party. It's still a couple of weeks away and I doubt that he's going with his meister."

The girl quickly told him the error of his plans. "I know you need me to ask him." Sighing, he added, "Which isn't going to make it any less awkward. We'll worry about it later. For now let decide who going to cut up the fish. Loser of rock, paper, scissor get to do it."

Three rounds of the simple game lead to Treou defeat- his scissor being crash by a rock. "Fine," he whined at an innocent smile. "I'll do it." Picking up the knife- there was a scalpel, but due to the fish's thick skin a knife will be used first- he glanced between him and the teacher. Stein was demonstrating how to cut into the fish's belly without cutting any of the organs.

Following his steps, he somewhat skillfully sliced the belly open. "I bet the butcher is enjoying herself." Tapping him on the shoulder, Clair drew his attention to two empty seats in the front row. "She is not in recovery," he said as a matter of fact. "I just saw her yesterday coming out of the nurse office."

Cutting around the frontal and posture fins, he freed enough flesh that he could pull back the skin. All the while a clear liquid oozed out of each cut. As he examine the first set of guts his partner explain to him where Alice was. "She already out on a mission? How did she get motivate to take a second one on the same week?"

The answer was simple. "Oh, her partner dragged her off. Figures. Beside for the loud mouth right next to us, her soul count is the lowest in the class." Can't say the same thing about her grades, but most students speculated that was because Stein did so many dissections- one of the girl's favorite hobbits. However, unlike the professor she wasn't insane. It was more on the line of her enthusiasm for life was, putting it mildly, lacking. So for her to do must of anything without an external force influencing her to do so was strange. Many people, including himself, actually wonder how she got out of bed in the morning.

"So where did her partner dragged her to this time," he asked just to keep his mind off the work at hand. "West Berlin? Heard that it was a nice place this time of year, but I'm not sure sending her there was a good idea." Sending the girl to any populous cities was a risky move. In her mind there was no just thing as collateral damage. The weapon nodded in agreement, but was more focus on finding the shark's bladder.

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><p>The afternoons in Berlin were similar to that of most large cities. Children run about with little care in the world as the adults went on to do their business. A warm, cloudy day was what the weather had in store which few complain about. People walked on with their daily lives as if all in the world was right. However, this illusion is hard to keep up when one drive or walk near the wall.<p>

Separating the city in two was the Berlin wall, a concrete barrier more than a dozen feet tall and a foot thick- encircling the western portion of the city. Quarantining western ideas while at the same time blocked the flow of traffic between east and west. To enforce this quarantine guards towers lined the walls. In a few locations where vehicles were allow through concrete barriers were put up to make sure that only those who were authorize were allow in or out. Soldiers were given orders to shoot to kill anyone who dared to scale it or run the entrance points.

One can easily tell that the wall was made more to keep people out than keeping West Berliners in. Western side of the wall was defiled by graffiti art. Some of it could have been called true art for it truly does show the feelings of the artists. Eastern side of the wall was a continuous ugly gray. In a few places there were blood stains, but overall it was a sore sight.

Walking down the West Berlin's side of the wall was a meister and her weapon. An umbrella shielded Alice's skin from the sunlight as she examined the graffiti. Edgar Po, the raven, was perched on her shoulder, tilling his head this way and that at all people around them. Jane watched the clouds as she tried her best to look as if she wasn't glancing at every pedestrian that walked by.

"Why are we here again?" asked Alice. A dull ache in her shoulder remained her of the healed injury she recently earned. Sunlight was too bright and she felt like lying down on the sidewalk to take a nap. She much rather be in school than out in the field.

"You know why we're here," replied the weapon as she looked each person over. Before her meister could say a word she said, "Don't give me any shit about being too tired. The nurse said that the wound had healed up nicely. Besides, we need to rack in on our soul count. That ego manic is starting to catch up and there no way we're going to be dead last."

The meister muttered something about her being a perfectionist. She didn't think of challenging the claim for she knew better. Arguing with her will get them nowhere. "This should be an easy kill for us," she said in hope of putting some cheer into her meister's depressing demeanor. "The kishin seemed to be to targeting girl about our age. All we have to do is go into an alley and hope we are attacked."

Alice chuckled darkly as her a hand stroke the raven's neck. "Hear that Po. You got the day off." The bird tilled his head at her with a questioning look. "There will be plenty of flesh to dine on after we're done." Seeming to be satisfied, the raven let out a squawk and ruffled his feathers. Plenty of people glanced at the odd sight, but neither of the two minded at all. They were used to the stares by now.

"Maybe," said Jane as she looked at the nearby buildings. "It's not like we have the time to run around very alleyway. Even before the communists put the wall up Berlin wasn't a small city. If we're lucky the wall will prevent it from leaving."

"So we'll start where the last report put the kishin," said Alice, not sounding all that confident, "narrowing down our search to most of the city."

"Can you every think positive?" asked the weapon as they turn down a street.

"Yes," she replied, "but I tend to like to not do so."

Rolling her eyes, the weapon took a mirror from her pocket to examine her face. Overall it looked fine, but a little more lipstick wouldn't hurt. As she applied the makeup a shout from behind caused her to glance over. No longer by her side, Alice accidentally ran into a teen a year or two older than she was. Dressed in loose clothing stained by a dark liquid that came from the foam cup lying on the ground, he cussed the meister out. Accusing her of being a whore, bitch, hoe and all other words his polluted mind could think up.

"Sorry," she said as she tried to step around him. "You should have looked where you were going."

"What did you say to me," he said as he stood in her way.

_This won't end will_, Jane thought as she placed her stuff back into her pocket. She quickly positioned herself where she could immediately help her meister if need be. Nonchalantly, Alice said, "I'm sorry. Shouldn't tax the few brain cells you got. Let me dumb thing down a little. You in way. You crash into me. You watched where you're going."

With that said the meister made another attempt to get around the boy. Instead, a foot stomped onto the toes of her boot. "Let hear that again bitch," he said with a menacing smile. For a moment they stared into the other eyes. To the boy's surprise there was no pain or fear in her. Quite the opposite for she seemed be laughing at him.

"Po," she said as a sadistic grin creep onto her face. "Be a good boy and go in search for that kishin." The raven nodded it head as it spread its wings out to take flight. As soon as the bird was out of view she said, "Now that my shoulder she free..." Effortlessly, she yanked her foot up from under his weight. He stumbled back a little and before he could recover the emo got a hold of his left arm. Twisting it, she pressed it firmly onto his back. He tried to pull it free, but her gripped was solid.

"Make one more move and I'll break your arm like a twig." By the sound of her voice she would enjoy it to. So he froze in place not daring to move a single muscle. "When you crash into someone you don't act like a complete asshole. You'll polite say sorry and move on with your pathetic life. Got it." A rapid nod of his head confirmed her statement. "Get lost," she said, shoving him forward. "Don't let me found you bullying people around."

He was able to get his hands beneath him in time, enabling him to scramble quickly to his feet. "You're crazy bitch," he yelled as he fled the scene.

"Coward," she said as she bent down to retrieve the dropped umbrella, "every last one of them."

"Great," said her partner as she near her, "already scaring half the people around you before they get a chance to know you. Did you have to do that?"

"I'm not letting a bastard push me around; also no one else was going to help." Glancing toward where Po had flown off, she said, "Let go find my bird. He has been gone too long for a quick patrol." The flipping of wings overhead changed that command. "Never mind," she said as she looked up. The bird circled them several times before flying off in a western direction. "We can't be that lucky," she said as she chased after the bird.

"Always the pessimist," said Jane as she followed. "Why can't you believe that good things can happen?" The raven led them down several blocks of crowded streets. They got plenty of rebukes by the people they plowed through. Neither stopped to say a word and Alice was more than happy to shove a person to the ground if need be. A sharp turn into an alley way filled with trash didn't slow their progress.

However, a girl not much older than them ran into the meister as they rounded a corner. She fell onto her butt while Alice stumbled back a bit. "Watch where you're..." One glance at the girl got her to shut up. The shirt and shirt she was wearing was torn and bloody. A hand was clenching to a limp arm that looked as if it been through a meat grinder. Eyes filled with terror looked at her like a craze animal. She started to scoot away from the meister, but a blood curdling yell sent her scrambling behind them.

"Call this a good thing?" Alice asked of her partner. The weapon glanced over to her ready with answer. "Shut it and transform. Whatever did this to that girl is coming this way." Without word the weapon's form morphed into an ax. Grabbing the handle, the emo heaved it over her shoulder while dropping the umbrella. The ache in it intensified slightly, but she welcomed the pain.

For a few seconds she stood there waiting for whatever monstrosity to round the bend. What happen next was a complete blur. Something on all four limbs sprinted around the corner and without slowing down charged her. When it was only a couple yards away it launch into the air; five long gleaming claws thrust forward. The meister leapt out of the way- claws gorging earth rather than flesh.

As soon as she was on her feet she swung the ax downward, biting into the cement. Before she knew it claws swipe at her head. Dragging the ax as she stepped back, several times she nearly missed being cut up. A burning sensation in her lower arm told that it had been glaze. "Jane, machete, now!"

A glow engulfed the ax and within seconds it was replace by a two feet long, straight back sword. Its single curve edge was white while the rest of the blade a shiny black. Much lighter than the ax the meister was able to swing it in front of her with little effort. Her aim was wild, but she felt it slice into the thing's chest. Whatever it was let out a furious, painfully cry. As soon as it hit the ground it turned tail and dashed away from its assaulter.

"This is turning out to be a headache," moaned the girl as she give chase. "Po," she called out to the sky, "keep an eye on that thing in case we lose it." In response the bird let out a shrill cry. "Now let hope the kishin doesn't cause any more trouble."

Murphy's Law was a son of a bitch at times like this. Apparently, the creature never faced someone who resisted it before. Knowing nothing more than attacking, once it was wounded it only thought was to flee. Exploding from the alley way onto the sidewalk, it scared the life out of the many pedestrians as it rushed out into the streets. A car blurted it horn at the kishin which it paid little mind to the vehicle. Instead, it jumped onto the vehicle's roof, bouncing off of it to the next moving car.

_Wow! That kishin sure can move_, stated the weapon as Alice came out of the alleyway.

"What is with this kishin?" she asked of no one in particular. Lucky for her, wielding a sword about persuaded people to get out of her way. However, when she came to intersections cars weren't as generous as they drove through the green light. Without much thought she dashed out into the street. Horns shouted at her as she went and people yelled rude comments as she made it across.

"Move people," she grumbled as the kishin leapt off a car and dashed into another alley way. Choosing to jaywalk again, more people yelled at her as she went. A truck nearly run her over, but other than that nothing worse happened.

Shouts of surprise in the alley way draw her to a couple of stunned man. Between them was scattered crate- foam peanuts spilt from a large crack. As she passed them they shouted words of warning to her, but she ignore them. Screeching of wheels followed by the sound of metal colliding into metal lured her in the right direction. A minor crash that would produce nothing more than a dent was an annoyance to the drivers. However, the crash did halt the flow of traffic, making it a lot easier for her to get across the street.

Several more alleyways later she was breathing a bit heavily as she turned the corner. A dead end with her target in sight greeted her. However, she wasn't even sure if the creature she was chasing was even once human. On all four was a shadow of a man scratching away at the walls with metallic claws. Dense blond hair covered its body from head to toe. Remains of clothing were a torn up shirt that barely covered its chest and frayed shorts that went halfway down the upper leg. The crunching of her boots alerted the kishin of her coming. Turning it head, two bloodshot eyes stared at her in a feral manner. It mouth was pulled back into a snare; pointed teeth lining it.

_This guy had totally lost it! _

"Rabies?" questioned the meister. "I never thought a kishin could get sick." The kishin growled at them as it kept scraping at the wall. "But whatever goodness humanity has had left this guy long ago." Testing the machete's edge by running it across her ring finger, she watched the thin line of crimson oozed out. "This shouldn't take long."

As she advanced on the kishin it growl became lower and more threatening. Not at all frighten she kept on getting closer to the thing. "It's alright. I will end your suffering as quickly as possible." It barked at her several times before jabbing its claws into the red bricks. At a slow but steady rate it scale the wall to what it thought was an escape route. With a sadistic grin she said, "Not getting away that easy. Jane, claws!"

Transforming once more, the machete turn into five long, narrow rods, strapped to her wrist by a leather band. Each rod ran down her finger ending half a foot away from the tips as barred hook. Pointing her hand at the roof's edge, she said, "Extend." The claws shot upward and over the edge. Yanking her hand down, the tips dug into the stone. "Going up." Yank off her feet her nose was half an inch away from the wall as she shot up. Just as the kishin got onto the roof Alice was propelled over the edge.

Going into a roll, she hit the roof top and rolled for a foot. Coming to a stop on her feet, she quickly stood up to face the kishin. Grinning menacingly, she pointed the clawed hand at it. "Where do you think you're going?" It growled as it tried to edge toward the right. "Machete," she said as she dashed forward. The sword was in her hand within seconds and posed to kill.

Whatever mind the mad man had left was able to understand that this meister wasn't going to leave it along. Roaring, it leapt forward as she neared it. Alice managed to parry one of the claws, but the other carved out a piece of her shoulder. Blood poured out of the wound as she was knocked to the ground. The kishin tried to pin her down with its legs, but she swipe for its neck. It reared up to avoid having it throat sliced open, allowing the meister to roll away from it.

Not letting the meister get away so easily it dashed after her, swiping at the ground. She kept on rolling until she crashed into a chimney. Somersaulting backward, she nearly missed being cut to shreds. The kishin's claws went straight through the chimney, leaving several large claws mark behind. The meister scrambled onto her feet, huffing slightly. However, instead of being tried she seemed to be exhilarated.

"Pathetic," she said as her free hand was placed on the wound. Pulling it to her face, she grinned at the bloody hand like a manic. "Hurt me some more."

More than happy to do so the kishin let out an angry roar and charged. The meister stood there, showing no signs of dodging. As it neared, the weapon started to get worried. _Alice, this is no time to enjoy your sick fantasies. _Holding her ground, the emo stared the kishin down with a maddening smile. Leaping into the air, both claws were extended out to tear her chest to pieces.

"Got ya," she said as she ducked under the kishin at the last moment. Its soft, unprotected belly came into view and she buried the blade right across where the belly button should be. The sword cut deeply into the furry flesh, producing a loud cry of pain from it. She wasn't able to dodge the incoming knees, but she took the full blow to her shoulder.

Boots skidded across the roof an inch or two as an arm wrapped around the kishin's torso. It started to kick and frail its limbs in an attempt to cut the meister. None of the wild swings hit her. For a moment or two she kept hold of the struggling form- blood seeping through her jacket and shirt. Heaving it forward, she threw the kishin toward the roof's edge. It bounce several times coming to a stop with it head over the sudden drop.

The kishin leapt onto its feet to get away, but it was immediately forced to turn its attention to its stomach. Guts were threatening to spill out as blood spilled through at a dangerous rate. Hair around the wound was matted with blood, but did little to slow the flow. Its arms were the only thing keeping the intestines in. Whimpering, it stumbled away in a desperate attempt to flee.

"Unless someone sews that up the wound is fatal," said the meister as she slowly walked toward the kishin. Overhead Po circled the dyeing creature. "You'll bleed out in minutes and I doubt anyone wants to help you, but don't worry. The pain will end soon."

Pulling the blade back for the death blow, she was too distracted on what was going on in front of her. She didn't hear the thing rushing up from behind. Only when it was right on top of her did she notice something wrong. Luckily, the raven swooped down at the creature, its talons spread out to strike. The thing shriek as part of its face was carved out. It stumbled back as it clawed the air at the assaulting bird, blades slicing at nothing more than empty space.

Startled, Alice glanced behind her to see another kishin just like the first one. The only different between the two that this one had brown fur. "Got to be kidding me," she said as she twirled around to attack the new kishin. Quickly, she covered the gap between them, but was forced to side step when she heard the scraping of metal against rock from behind. A single claw hand thrust through where her chest was.

Spinning around to face the both kishins, she glanced between the two. The one she had injured critically was walking like a normal human. One of its arms were still over it stomach, but as it stumbled forward it's had at his side free to strike. The brown kishin was still busy with the raven. How long it will last was anyone's guess. Having any large bird of prey clawing away at one's face would cause some damage, but against a kishin like this it would only serve to angry it.

_Retreat! _exclaimed the weapon. _Two against one and though one of them is wounded you're losing too much blood to handle both for long. _Running away doesn't sound bad at all. If Browny- better than calling them kishin one and kishin two- was more concern with its friend than with them. They could get away easily.

"Come on Po," shouted the meister as she turned to run. "We need to leave now." The raven took a couple more swoops at Browny before breaking off. Expect for the blood on his talons, he seemed to come out of the brawl as clean as he went in. The kishin let out a frustrated roar and made a move to chase after the bird. Understandable for its cheeks have nearly been ripped off. However, the whimpering of Blondy caused it to pause. It reluctantly glanced between its prey and its other before rushing over to the wounded comrade, allowing the trio to escape without hassle.

The meister jumped from building to building for several blocks before running down a flight of stair into an apartment complex. She was able to navigate the halls before blood loss and fatigue force her to stop on the ground floor. As she entered a lounge she realized that several people were chasing after her. Shouting something about murder, a group of six people stop several feet in front of her as she flop onto a couch. None of them were armed so she wasn't sure what they would do if they did corner her. Maybe keep her in place long enough for police to arrive. In all honesty it was stupidity for a real killer would have no issue with chopping them up.

"Relax," she said with a roll of her eyes, "I'm a meister." Letting go of her weapon, as it fall it transform back into a human. While sitting Clair explained to the folks what just happened. It took a moment to convince them, but they returned to whatever they were doing feeling a little foolish. Off in corner of the room a counterman was mid-dialing a phone as he stared uncertainly at the two. "No need to call the police. And if anyone see a raven please do him no harm. He is a well train animal."

Nodding his head, he put the retriever down and asked, "Should I get bandages for your wounds?"

Having time to examine the wounds, she could tell they were going be a problem. Three vertical deep, but small cuts carved out a portion of her shoulder. By now some of the blood had dried and scabbed over, but the red liquid still oozed freely. "That would be appreciated and please get something to disinfect it." Nodding, he left the room, leaving the two alone.

"Easy," Alice spitted out the word, "since when does that ever apply to us?"

"How was I supposed to know there were two of them?" said the weapon in her defense. "By all accounts there should have been only one."

"Last I check no one was even sure who the first one was. Nobody knew what had been attacking people was a kishin or an animal- can't say I blame them after seeing the thing." Shaking her head, she said, "Is it right to call them a kishin? I know kishin are crazy, but they still have twisted minds that think. Those two things have degraded into wild beasts."

The two sat in silence until the flipping of wings break it. "Hey Edgar," said the meister without looking up. "Go perch on the couch's arm. My shoulder she killing me." Jane tried to protest, but in the end the couch's cloth had a new set of puncture holes. For a few more moment they sat in quiet. The counterman came back with fresh bandages and salve which stung when applied to the wound.

After her meister's wounds were treated for the weapon thanks the man as they left. Somehow the sun had crossed the skies without their knowing. Drooling and eyes shut, it was halfway down the horizon. People of the day went home to be left alone or to care for families, leaving the streets to those who had time to spare or places to be.

"We better start searching," the meister said with a groan. As they walked the raven flew off in search for their prey. Both she and bird had a grim that repealed the crowd around them. It also help that the meister's jacket was drench in blood.

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><p>On the rougher side of town an abandon apartment complex stood among a horde of run down buildings. To the naked eye it would look to be unoccupied. Most of the windows have been board up while the single door that led inside was barred shut. White paint peeled off rotten wood walls in large chunks. Several nice size holes allowed rodents, small birds, and the weather to invade inward.<p>

Inside was in the same if not worst state as the outside. Carpet floors, water stained ceilings, and aged walls cultivated mildew and molds. Every step was a risk of falling through the floor. Some of the doors leading into the apartments hang by a single hinge while others have fallen from their frames. Most of the rooms have long been stripped of anything of value. What remained fed the swarm of insects and fungi over the years.

Third floor, last room to the left was the only apartment that was in somewhat decent shape. The door had long been taken out, but every crack into the place had been sealed up with paddy. Wooden floor looked intact if not clean while the walls had the freshest layer of paint in the complex. Made of several rooms the apartment consisted of a bathroom, living room/kitchen, and master bedroom.

The living room had a couple of mattresses on the floors, but was pretty much empty. At the moment Blondy lay on one of the mats in restful slumber. One of its arms was drooped over a raw scar cutting across its stomach. In the next room over the bedroom was a little more homely. A made bed sitting on a decent bed frame was in the middle of it. Flanking its right was a desk with a mirror attached to it accompany by a slightly unstable stool. In the wall to the left was an unbroken, but browned window that let a slight draft in.

Sitting on the stool was a tall, elderly woman. Dressed in a plain, black dress it contradicts her pale skin. Thin iron gray hair stopped at the shoulder hang limply. A face creased deeply with wrinkles didn't hide an old faded scar that cut across her right cheek. Dark brown eyes filled with spite stared at the kishin before her. Bony fingers twisted and interlocked with each other as she thought things over.

Browny crouched in front of her in silent- head bowed to avoid the woman harsh stare. Like his companion the wounds on his face had healed into raw scars. "Meister," she hissed as a forked tongue tasted the air. "Should have killed her when you had the chance?" The kishin did not show any signs of hearing her, but she knew it got the message. "I should have let the coward die. Running away as soon as something hurt it is ridiculous. He's was lucky I felt generous enough to heal him."

Nodding its head, the kishin opened its mouth. Sounded as if it was gurgling water, but she understood the words. "Sorry minster; should have known better."

"Yes you should, but we will worry about you're punishment later. Right now there is a meister out on the streets looking for the two of you. She won't stop searching until you're both dead. If she found out where this place is than things will get ugly." Glancing over to the window, she gritted her teeth. "Go out there and finish her off. Like your brother she was seriously wounded. Make sure that the wound kills her."

The kishin nodded its head before dashing out of the room. Getting up from her seat, the woman walked into the living room to check on Blondy sleeping from. Looking it over, she huffed in annoyance as she shook her head. "All those years of turning men into kishins and this are the best they can do?" As if hearing her Blondy raised one of its hands to grasp the air. However, it soon went back down as it curled up into a ball.

"I'm getting to old for this," she muttered as she walked into the bathroom. In there was her medicine and right now she needed an aspirin to settle down a throbbing headache.

* * *

><p>"Where is a blood hound when you need one," mumbled Alice. Base on the watched on her wrist the time was twenty-eight minutes after two in the morning. For six hours now she, her partner, and raven had searched the city with little success. She was tired to the bone, moody as hell, and had the powerful need to snap somebody's head off. Good thing that it was late at night. Most folks had already taken shelter for the night.<p>

The girl who kept her out here walked a way back to stay out of grabbing distance. "It only has been one day," said the weapon cheerfully. "Neither of those kishin can hide for long. It not like we're in New York or London." The meister turned her head to send a murderous glare at the weapon. Forcing a smile, she took several more steps back. "Don't look at me like that. It creep me out." Not saying a word Alice turned her glare away. With a sigh of relief she decided it was best to keep her optimism to herself. For a few more minutes they walked in awkward silence.

"If Po doesn't return with good news we are calling it a night," said Alice as she came to a sudden stop. Since there was no point in auguring the weapon kept her peace. On a nearby bench they sat down to wait for the bird. Alice stared at the ground while Jane looked at everything around her except her meister. Shivering slightly, the weapon rebuke herself for not bringing a jacket. Rubbing her hands together, she stood up and started to pace back and forth.

For about ten minutes she did this before her partner shouted, "Where is he? He better not be eating trash." Shrugging her shoulders, she kept on pacing. She always wondered why her partner treated the bird like he was human. Maybe it was because the raven was one of the few living things she showed any affection to. Any others of her own species seemed be an annoyance.

"Maybe a cat was chasing him and he had finally gotten away. Give him a few more minutes. I'm sure he show up soon enough." Hearing a squeak somewhere in the distance, she said, "See, here he comes now."

Jumping to her feet, the meister said with a tone of urgency, "Jane, turn into a machete."

The weapon arched an eyebrow at the request, but did as she was told. The blade cluttered to the ground before she could grab it, but Alice quickly picked up it. Spreading her legs out, she flexed her knees as she got into a defensive position.

_What got you worried?_ asked the weapon. Again another squeak was heard, but this time it was much closer. The pain it carried was all too easy to hear. With a neutral expression the meister stared into the darkness- the streets lights helping only slightly.

Another few seconds went on by before they saw him. Soaring their way, Po was low to the ground. A glitter of red shined on his black coat, but it couldn't be told if it was his own or the creature that was chasing after him. With time to actually see it the brown furred kishin didn't seem like a blurry killer. Doesn't take away the fact it was furiously charging this way.

Standing her ground, she stared the kishin down with the same murderous glare from early. The raven dived through her legs with the monster close behind him. Dodging the first attack, she jumped to the side and than rushed forward to meet it. For a split second its attention was divided between the meister and the bird. In this time the meister noticed the fact that there were raw scars where scabs should be on its cheeks. Than it roar and faced the girl with its claws ready to strike.

It quickly became obvious who was the quicker between the two. Reluctantly, Alice was almost immediately forced to go on the defense. Evading and parrying, she tried her best to drive away each blow. She managed to keep away the worst of the attacks, but it did inflect minor slice wounds to her arms. Whenever she could she would slip in a quick attack through a hole in its offense. The blade wasn't able to bite into the flesh she aimed for-the joints- for it was just too fast.

Clash of steel ringed throughout the quiet night as they dance around the other. Growing tried, the meister tried to break off, but the kishin would have none of that. Ruthlessly, it kept up the assaults at the same furious pace. When it finally broke through her defense the kishin drove a set of its claws into her gut. Monument sent the meister crashing into a wall. Her head bang against it and hang limply as the claws dug deeper through flesh and brick.

Blood spilled onto the claws as the weapon shouted, _Alice! _From above the raven cried out,, but it could do nothing as the kishin's mouth twist into a toothy grin. As she bleed out it daydream of consume just a powerful soul. Second turned into a minute; the flow of blood started to slacken. The weapon could feel life pulsing strongly as well as the kishin- the grin set into a confuse frown.

"Is that supposed to hurt?" asked the girl with an eerie tone. Quicker than the kishin could evade in time the machete came down onto its elbow. Blood splattered onto the ground- the monster cried out in pain. Rearing back, it gripped the stump where the elbow once was. "I could do so much more damage." Lifting her head up, a sadistic grin accompanied by malevolent eyes watched the kishin howled. With her free hand she gripped the detached arm by the wrist. Yanking it out, she ignored the renew flow of blood pouring out.

In two large steps she got close to the kishin to swipe its own clawed hand at the thigh. Metal tear through muscles and tendons before the pain inflicted Browny knew what hit it. Scream of terror and agony echoed through the streets as it tried to pull away. Claws once again ripped through its thigh followed closely by the sword. Due to the awkwardness of holding two weapons the machete didn't go completely through. However, it cut straight to the bone, rendering the leg utterly useless.

Taking a few step back to observe her work, she watched the kishin with pure amazing as it limped away from her. "Not so scary now are you?" It didn't as much as turn it head toward her. Its only thoughts were to flee.

By now everyone on the block was awaken up by the animalistic screams. From windows and doorsteps people watched with sickening interest. They knew that the one on the ground was the kishin, but seeing it in a pitiful state made them nauseated. However, they knew that interfering was probably a bad idea.

For a dozen seconds Alice let the kishin limp a few feet, giving it false hopes of mercy. Than at a slow pace she walked after her prey. Seeing her come its way, the kishin tried to quicken it limping. Something catch it foot and soon it was using the two unharmed appendages to push across the asphalt. Both limbs were its right making it hard to go backward in a straight line. This made the meister's advancement seem much more faster than it truly was.

Once she was more or less standing over Browny, that sadistic smile grew malicious. With the claws she pinned the uninjured leg to the ground. It started a frantic struggle to free the leg which only served to tear it up. Letting go of the arm, she place a foot onto the hand and forced it down. The claws went as far as they could go while bones cracked.

With the kishin effectively kept in place the girl savagely started to cut away at its chest. Each cut was aimed just so that she could cause the maximum amount of pain. However, each cut was shallow enough to prolong its suffering. At first the kishin screamed, but as the attack progress the pain become so unbearable that its mind went numb. As for the girl she was having the time of her life. She chopped away at the torso – smile stretching from ear to ear-, turning the flesh into raw, red meat that barely hanged onto the bones.

Once she was satisfied herself- a full minute the kishin endure- she stop. The blood soak machete felt light in her hand. Red streaks splattered all over her clothing intermixing with her own. Pulling strand of hair away from her eye, she examined the damage she had done. Amazing, the kishin held on to life by a thread, but it glaze over eyes told that it mind was gone. Short of a miracle it was good as dead.

Good thing that weapons can't threw up. Jane would have empty her stomach at the slaughter she help create. "Claws," ordered her meister. Mentally stuttering, the weapon did as she was told.

Alice went over to the kishin' head and buckled her knees so she could get closer to the face. Gazed locked onto to an eye she placed the claw running down her pinky finger over it. She pushed the blunt curve edge onto the cornea to see if she could get a respond. Eyelid tried to close shut, but that was an automatic response rather than a conscience one. Slowly, she applied pressure. It took a moment to break through, but a clear liquid squirted out as the claw dive into the pupil. Shoving the hook a way back, she got into a familiar position. Than with one good, hard tug she pulled upward. The optic nerve didn't break instantly, but it did snap and the muscles soon tore as well.

Examining the eyeball, she grinned as she shouted, "Po, time for a treat!" From a nearby building the raven flew down. Landing on her uninjured shoulder, he took one look at the white sphere before plucking it off the claw. As this happen the kishin drew its last breath. Its body dissolved into a cracked, fiery red soul.

"Look like you get a treat as well." Jane didn't answer as the meister let go of the blade. In human from she landed on her knee, hurling up onto the blood stain that the kishin left behind. Wiping puke from the corner of her mouth, she looked warily at her meister.

"I hate it when you do that," she said with contempt. Glancing over to the soul, she wasn't sure if she wanted it any more.

"Hurry up and eat it. People are watching us and I would like to go home." Sure enough people were staring at them as if they were wild animals. Putting her issues aside, she grabbed the soul. For lingering moment she stared at it before swallowing it in one bite. Disdain covered her face as it went down. She just knew that this soul was going to cause indigestion later on

"We better go found a doctor," she said as she turned to her meister. "Those wounds are going to need some stitches. Good thing I kept some bandages and gauze from that last guy. Doubt that anyone around here would be willing to help us."

Nodding her head, the meister followed her weapon to a more secluded area. Somewhere off in the distance an elder woman dressed in a black dress watched the two leave. Muttering a few words under her breath, she left the area to head back home. Even with healing powers it would seem that her headaches just kept on getting worse.

* * *

><p>Daisy: *Patted the pit bull on the head as a doctor tended to Black*Star.* Hopes he is alright.<p>

Maka: He'll be fine. He recovered worst injures than the dog how done to him. As for the readers hope you enjoyed the read. Just out curiosity what do you guys think of Alice. She won't be a major character, but she definitely not your normal...um... heroine. As always please leave a review. Good criticism, flames, and comments int general are welcome.


	15. Chapter 14

Mulleb: *Stocking shelves. Sistine come up behind him and started complain.* One moment ma'am. I'll help you... *Notice readers.* Take five Sistine. We need to do the A/N.

Sistine: Okay, but after this we are continuing.

Mulleb: I know. Hear that guys. We'll taking a broke.

Several judges: Okay. *Goes off doing whatever.*

Mulleb: Well, here the next chapter. All I got to say that don't expect another chapter for a while. I got a new job. Only part time, but between school and work it will eat up a lot of my free time. So enjoy the read.

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><p>Chapter Fourteen<p>

"Kid, stop staring at the janitor," said Liz. It was lunch break for their class. Rumbling in her abdominal region told of the little patience she had. Her younger sister had gone ahead to calm down her own hunger. If they were home she would had join her, but knowing their meister's quirks. It more or less became a rule that at less one of sisters should be with him at all times.

Most of the time when he stared at something it was because he was having a mental struggle of keeping his urges under control. Wouldn't be the first time she dragged him out of sight of the offending object. However, as hard as she tried she wasn't able to see anything about the man that could upset his obsession.

Mopping the hallway's floors, the janitor looked like any other she had seen. Dressed in a light blue, collared shirt and jean the olive skin man slouched as he worked. White gloves covered his hands while black hair slicked with gel poke from under a cap. A shinigami skull was sewn onto the pocket protector on the right side of his shirt. A minor detail Kid could easily overlook as long no one forced it in his face.

A few stragglers pass on by, but for the most part the three were by themselves. Either the man was ignoring the meister's stare or he doesn't care that he was staring. She believed it was the sooner than the later due to the fact his head was bent and had his back to them. For some it was easier to pretend something doesn't exist if they couldn't see it.

Liz waited for a few more seconds to pass, glancing from meister to janitor in hope of getting an answer. A closer examination of Kid's eyes told that he wasn't just trying to found a fault. Pupils were turned slightly up while his mouth was set into a neutral expression. "Does he remind you of anyone?" Kid asked abruptly.

Shrugging, she replied, "Sort of remain me of some homeless guy, expect a lot cleaner." A nod was given, however it was the sort one gave when only half listening. At a quick pace he started toward the janitor. His weapon quickly followed not sure if she should stop him or not. Though at times Kid could be problematic, he was a reliable person who rarely jumped the gun. If he felt that something was off it was best to take a look at it.

"Excuse me," said the reaper as they approached the janitor. "Would you mind sparing a moment of your time?"

The janitor turned to faced them, dark gray eyes puzzled. "Hello," he said, failing to sound like an American. "Is there something that I can help you with?" Taking a second look at the guy, Liz tried to gain some more information. His face does ring a distance bell, but she paid it little mind. Naturally, there are people out there who have similar facial features. For all she know she subconsciously remembered crossing path with someone at the store that looked like him.

It was the voice that got her guard up. Unless a person trained themselves it was nearly impossible to alter one's voice. His accent told that he was not a native English speaker of any kind. French was her best guess and the dialect sounded all too familiar. If it was possible they had met before, the man showed no signs of recognition.

"I just like to notify you that the boy's bathroom on the third floor needs to be clean up. Somebody stuffed toilet paper down the pipes."

Whatever or not Kid expected to see an abnormal reaction he was disappointed. The janitor just nodded in acknowledgment as irritation flashed across his face. "Thank you for telling me. Have any ideas who done it?" A shook of the head caused more irradiation. "As soon as I'm done here I'll check it out." With that said he returned to mopping, more or less telling them they could leave.

Out of hearing distance of the janitor, the reaper said, "I am certain that I have seen that man before. Something about him is also telling me to be careful."

"Same here," said Liz as she glanced over her shoulder. The man was still at work with the mop. "For me it was his voice. Nothing in itself was wrong. More on the line of that I had heard it before."

"Whoever the new janitor is he doesn't seem too worried of us seeing him." For a moment the weapon shot him a look of confusion. "The last janitor recently had been hospitalized. He was bitten by a Mojave rattlesnake in his home." Though she paid little attentions to the maintenance stuff, she knew about the rattlesnake. It was uncommon, but from time to time venomous snakes from the dessert come into city's limit, searching for cool areas to rest. Hopeful a person founds it before any harm was done, but that wasn't always the case.

"So you want to tell Lord Death about him?"

"Father wouldn't take me seriously if all I got to go on was a feeling." In all honesty the older reaper doesn't seem to take anything seriously. However, he does have a point.

"Putting the issue to the side for now, let go get some lunch." Kid nodded and the two walked in silence.

That is until they reached the cafeteria. Even before they went through the double doors a chorus of incognizable voices muffled any other sounds. Compare to the rest of the school the cafeteria was pretty normal. Tables seated for at most seven were scattered across the large room each occupied by a group of kids. Large rectangular windows allowed sunlight in. Walls were painted a boring white. Like anyone else each students either brought lunch from home or line up at a counter where food was set out in large, rectangular pans.

After grabbing their preferred servings and paying for it the two headed toward the center of the room. They soon found their table which Black*Star, Tsubaki, and Patty were already sitting down at. The assassin duo- Tsubaki ate quietly while Black*Star downed his food- sat across from Patty who was pushing her leftovers into a still unidentifiable shape. Sitting to the blonde's right, Kid asked, "Where's Crona and Soul? I thought they be here by now."

The assassin paused long enough from his devouring to say around a mouthful, "Hum ag bonm fieadf..." Kid put a hand up, which surprisingly shut him up. Glancing over at Tsubaki, he waited for her to shallow before getting an answered.

"He's eating out again. Wanted to practice witch hunter as soon as he was done eating."

"I feel kind of sorry for him," said Liz between bites. "People expect so much out of him. Remember when the exam came and how hard he studied for it." Long story short the exam is a test everyone took to see who is the smartest in the school. A myth around it was that whoever ranked number one became the next great meister. Wanting to prove that he could be that meister Crona studied for a full week nonstop like the rest of the top rated students. In the end he was ranked number two in the school- right behind Ox.

"Disappointment was the closest word I can think of when he found out," said Tsubaki, frowning slightly.

"Took him a month before coming out of that funk," stated Patty while swinging a spoon around. A bit of mash potato covered in gravy landed on her meister's suit. Didn't take long for him to notice and proceed to wipe it away with a napkin. "Hard to believe he could be quieter than he usually is."

"Who willing to bet that he will knock himself silly and need someone to fetch him," said Black*Star once his meal was finish. Shrugging off the accusing glares, he said, "What? Wouldn't be the first time Soul needed help dragging him to the nurse's office." For some reason he glance behind his shoulder to the next table over.

Sitting at it were Ox and his weapon partner, Harver, on one side while Kilk and the twins sat on the other. A tall kid who had his brown hair tied back into a spiky pony tail. Harver dressed in a white collared- collar up- jacket and pants, blue shirt, brown shoes, and red visor. He was talking to his partner about studying as they ate.

Skin a dark brown, body's well-built, and black hair pulled into short dreadlocks on top and on the sides and back in cornrows. Kilk outfit consisted of short sleeve short, gray pants with decorative chains, black and white sweatbands that covered his forearms, a tribal necklace, and square glasses. As he devoured his meal with great ferocity his weapon partners, Thunder and Fire, on either side of him were playing with their food. The twins looked identical since they both have dark skin, blue eyes, and mid-length blond hair that framed their faces. Expect for the caps- Fire's red while Thunder's yellow- they wore the same red and white striped shirt under white overalls. If no one were to ask, the young kids could easily be mistaken as the same gender.

The picture seemed to be perfect if one didn't knew who was missing. Shrugging, Black*Star turned his attention back onto his table. Maybe he was the only one who noticed, but whenever Crona wasn't around Kim seemed to be missing as well. This time her weapon partner also disappeared. Not feeling the need to enlighten everybody with this information he started to do what he does best. Boost his ego with words that had some truth to them.

* * *

><p>A good distance away from the school was a manmade forest. Created sometime during the first years of Death City, the deciduous trees were brought out into the desert for a source of lumber. After some trial and error a healthy forest was up within several generations. Over the years it had served as a lumber source, park, and training ground. Whatever it was being use for many of Death City's citizens took full advantage of it.<p>

Deeper within the forest a couple of meisters and their partners were hard at work. In a small clearing Kim was sitting down on a checkered ground cloth, munching on a tuna fish sandwich. A nice little picnic was set before her which was made for four. However, most of it had already been eaten. The other three who were with her were a few yards away to her left.

Drench in sweat Crona stared down a tree that had several large slash marks in it. The scythe was in his hand, looking none the worse than they began. Standing to the side, a dark hair brunette with equally dark brown eyes dressed in the exacted same school uniform as Kim glanced between the pink-haired boy and the tree. A hand cupped around her chin and not for the first time she tried to figure out the scythe meister's problem. Jacqueline was quite puzzled.

"I can't make head or tails of it," she finally admitted as she threw her arms into the air. "Nothing about your technique seemed off to me." To some it would seem a bit foolish to ask the advice of a different weapon into what wrong with another meister and weapon's soul resonance. However, there is similarity in all soul resonance that doesn't require soul perception to see. One of the most commonly made mistakes was that the meister or weapon was too hesitation to combine soul wavelengths. Both boys were the exact opposite, seeming to be a bit too eager.

Sighing, Crona said, "Stein pretty much said the same thing."

"This is so not cool," said Soul as the rod bent so the blade could face the girl. "Is there anything you can tell us that might help?"

Shrugging, she said, "Keep practicing until you drop dead." A deadpanned expression was the respond she got. "I'm just giving my honest opinion." Gesturing to the tree, she added, "Take another shot at it. You can't do any worse than you already have."

Nodding, Crona asked his weapon, "Ready to give it another try?"

Mentally smirking, the scythe straightened out. "Sure, why not?"

Feet shoulders widths apart the pink-haired boy closed his eyes and took in a deep breathe. With a start eyelids shot open- the gray of his eyes dominating the blue. "Soul resonance," exclaimed meister and weapon in perfect harmony.

The merging of souls was easily done. They had done it so many times that it had become second nature to do so. What it felt like for the souls to merge wasn't something that could be explained with few choice words. Closest thing the pink-haired boy could think of was the intermixing of two substances. Like water and oil it was impossible for some souls to interact with the other. However, others souls were like two spices that not only complement, but enchanted each other flavor.

Soon enough the two started picking up on their partner's feelings. Even though he was a little anxious the meister was overall relax. The weapon was growing impatience at each new failure that accompanied the ever growing list. Along with the feelings the meister's soul was empowered as he put more of it into the weapon.

Pulling the blade back, Crona braced himself for the rush that resonating of the soul could bring. When he thought that enough energy had been given, he yelled, "Witch hunter!" The scythe blade expanded outward until it taken on the form of a large crescent moon. It glow a shiny white with dashes of colors here and there. On the inside of the blade was a break, forming a jagged mouth that along with the huge single red eye. Bear a strange resemblance to that of the moon.

Taking a step back, Jacqueline gazed in awe as her meister causally watch. The weapon had seen them do this several times, but she was still amazed how much power he could put into the move. Ignorance of the audience Crona's eyes was honed in on the tree. For a millisecond he thought of several ways to cut it down. Choosing the one that would wreak less havoc on the surrounding area, he charged.

Every step landed with ease and the control of the attack was flawless- so far so good. A yard away from the tree- within striking range- he felt it. The slightly of shivers between their souls which shouldn't mean much. However, by now he knew what it meant. He tried to get the blade to drive through the thick woody steam as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, as soon as the shiver occurs the whole resonance fell apart within seconds.

An uncomfortable tug pulled their souls apart. Energy fueling the attack disappeared and the move itself soon followed. Halfway through the trunk the blade shrunk back to normal size. Crona was unable to stop the blade, lodging it deeper into the tree until the entire blade was engulfed by the wood. "Not again," complained Crona as he tugged at the pole.

"Why do you have to do that?" yelled the weapon in angry. "This is how it usually ends up. I get stuck in the tree while sap covers my body." Rolling his eyes, the meister kept his mouth shut. No need to aggravate him anymore than he already was. Though the rod could bend, Soul could stiffen to the point where he wouldn't move. Sadly, this made the job only marginally easier.

"Need some help," asked the other weapon as she got behind him.

"Two is better than one," he said, which she took as a yes. Wrapping her arms around his midsection, together they pulled as hard as they could. The scythe didn't budge an inch. "You're really stuck in there," Crona stated. Soul said something on the line 'Oh, you think!', but he wasn't sure for he turned his attention on Kim. "Mind lending us a hand over here?"

Nodding, she finished her sandwich as she stood up. "Be right there." Wrapping her arms around her partner, the three dug their feet into the ground and pull. At first it looked as if the scythe was going nowhere. Strain begun to persuade them to seek stronger muscles, but when they felt it move so slightly they kept up the effort. Then without warning the blade popped out, sending the three tumbling to the ground.

"Ow," whimpered Kim who was at the bottom of the dog pile. Lucky, the blade hadn't move toward them so being squash was the worst that happened. Quickly getting to their feet, Crona and Jacqueline helped the pinked-haired girl up. Stretching her back, she said, "This isn't working."

"We know," said the others in union.

"I think it's time for us to chance our approach on this." After a quick glance to see if she got everyone attention, she explained herself. "There nothing wrong with what you guys are doing, but maybe we should add a little more danger to the situation." Sending a look to her partner, the brunette gave a nod.

Hopping toward her meister, her body was engulfed by an orange glow- her form morphing. When the light broke a metal lantern with a set of nine holes drilled into it on each side flew toward the female meister. She caught it by the ring handle and held it up. "How does a friendly spar sound?"

Crona blinked, a little uncertain. "A teacher need to be around if we want to fight."

"We don't supervision," exclaimed Kim. "All I'm going to do is shot flames at you while you're powering up." Already this idea sounded terrible to the boy. Twitching an eyebrow, he glanced over to the school. "Relax," she reassured. "Jac and I had plenty of practice of controlling the flames. You'll be a little toasty, but won't be barbecued. Out on the battlefield no one is going allow you the time to be slow. Either you'll lick them or you die."

Her logic was sound, but she kept on underestimating the fact that she was proposing to shoot very hot projectiles at him. Between Soul and the two girls they could cart him to the nearest medical center if anything goes wrong. Then again he doesn't want to have third degrees burns all over his body. "I don't know," he said slowly as he lean on his weapon.

"Hello," shouted the sap covered scythe, "before we do anything else can someone clean this sap off me."

Glad to have the distraction Crona muttered an excuse as he rushed over to the table cloth. If he remembered to pack them there should be napkins in the basket. "He's not going to willing let you roast him alive," stated the lantern. "Only an idiot would face down a flamethrower which means if we're going to help him..."

Glancing over to the table cloth, Kim watched the pink-haired boy scrub away at the sticky sap. His weapon complained about pieces of the napkin sticking to him. In respond his meister causally suggested that he could do it himself in human form. Grumbling, the scythe said something about getting gunk in his hair.

A sly smile creep onto her face as she asked, "Did he ever said no?"

"He didn't say yes," countered the weapon. However, her meister raise the bottom of the lantern up while at the same time pulling the handle back slightly. "Aim up to the right. I rather not destroy the picnic over this."

Doing as instructed, the pink-haired girl shouted, "Incoming!" Yanking the ring out, the lantern glow a bright orange as a bottom flap flipped open. Two narrow, pupil-less yellows eyes and a jagged, opened grin shined through the orange flames. A jet of fire burst from it, scorching the air as it hurled forward.

Legs crossed Crona sat down before grabbing a napkin. Absorbed with his work he wasn't aware of what Kim planned on doing. Hearing the girl shout, he glanced her way to see flames barreling down on him. Dropping the napkin, he quickly followed it to the ground. Heat bathed his back for a split second as the flames zoom on by. It kept on going until it hit a tree not too far from the table cloth. The bark blackened on impact, but it did not catch.

Scrambling to his feet, he turned to yell at the pink-haired girl. Instead, he jumped to the right as another jet of flames flew on by. "Better start moving," she called out as a barrage of heat was release. Dashing behind the nearest tree, he hid behind it as flames flew on by.

Each time a flame hit or glazed the tree he cringed. The sooner due to the impact while the later was because the heat easily cut through the thin cloth of his shirt. "Stop shooting," he shouted, "I never agreed to this."

"Come and make me," she called back. Focusing the fire onto the tree, she bathed it with an almost continuous heat. Pieces of the bark flecked off rather than burn. However, keep the heat on and soon there will a huge bonfire.

"Damn girl," grumbled Soul. "Witch hunter isn't that important."

His meister agreed completely. Though he was worry of the tree catching on fire, the heated air was becoming difficult to breath. So if he wanted to stay alive it was best to get moving. When he thought that there was a gap between the waves of attacks he sprinted for the next tree. If any time lapped before the flames followed him it was microscopic.

She swept the fire across the forest in a hundred and eighty degrees, hitting every tree within a ten yards radius. Crona barely got behind cover when the heat was concentrated on his spot. "What are you waiting for?" she shouted as she let off the pressure. "Attack me!"

"But I don't want to hurt you," he shouted back.

"Why not?"

Grinning sheepishly, he peered around the tree and said, "Mother taught me to never hit a girl unless she threatening my life."

For a moment everyone- if the weapons could they would- stared at him with deadpanned expressions. "Most people would consider having flames shot at them as a threat to their life," stated Soul, woodenly.

"So? She is also my friend. I can't risk harming her."

"Then I better act less friendly and more hostile." Eyes widening, Crona crank his neck around to stare into the face of the lantern. "Hello," said Kim a smiling as the lantern started to glow.

Sidestepping the attack, he stumbled back as the girl twirled on her feet. Evading another shot, he bit his lower lip as flames passed by his ear. He tried to dash forward, but soon leapt to his right. As much as he wanted to near her she wouldn't allow it. In some ways this fight reminded him of the time when Soul and Black*Star teamed up on Kid. Fighting any range meisters can be difficult. Though pistols aren't exactly known for range or accuracy, they still gave the reaper the advantage of keeping close combat meisters more than an arm length away. Different was that flames instead of soul energy was used for projectiles and Crona wasn't putting up a fight.

As Kim chased after the pinked-hair meister she tripped up a bit, causing the flames to veer off. It glazed the boy's shirt sleeve, igniting the cloth. At the same time it bathed a portion of the scythe's rod. Heating the metal to the point where Crona was forced to drop it.

"Way too hot," exclaimed the scythe as it cluttered to the ground. The hot metal glow a light orange, threatening to catch the grass on fire.

Crona shook his nearly scorched hands before his attention turn onto the heat source on his arm. In a panic he slapped the burning cloth until it died out. "Enough already," he demanded. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

Not to far away the annoyed girl stood there- weapon pointed at the ground. "That's because you refuse to fight me." Glaring, the pink-hair boy opened his mouth to say something and then shut it. Shaking his head, he glanced at the scythe.

"You're waiting for me to pick him up?"

"I'm not going to attack a defenseless person."

Folding his arms across his chest, the boy said, "Soul, turn back to normal."

The weapon didn't respond immediately. Not sure what would happen if he transform when the metal was hot. He waited until the dull orange faded back into gray. On his feet he placed his hands into his pockets as crimson eyes joined the meisters in their staring contest.

For a moment the two stared at the other in irradiation before Crona said, "Lunch is almost over. We should go pack up and head on back."

Based on her expression she rather stayed here and continued. With a shrug, she said, "Hate to give Stein a reason to punish us." Soon enough Jacqueline was back in human form and the four headed back to the picnic. In no time they clean up the mess, placing everything into the basket. Looping the handle around her arm, Kim said, "I'll stash this away. See you guys in class."

Saying their farewells, the scythe and his meister headed toward school while Kim and her weapon head the other way. "Next time we asked someone to come along to assist us," said Soul as they walked. "Let bring either Kid or Black*Star. Actually, let see if we can get Sid to come out here. He's the only guy around here who doesn't have something wrong with him. Of course he's undead but that beside the point." Nodding in agreement, Crona retreated into his mind to figure out who they knew would make a good sparring partner. Sid would defiantly be one of the first he would rather choose. Maybe when he passed the zombie in the hallways he could ask.

"Is it safe to come out?" asked a frighten tree they just passed. Both boys confused, they turn around to found Treou and his partner pressed up against it. Well, the meister's back was against the trunk. At his feet with hands over her head Clair looked up at the people which her partner was addressing. Cheeks glow a hot crimson as she bolted up onto her feet.

"Nearly got hit by one of Kim's attacks?" asked Crona.

Nodding, Treou said, "We heard you guys sometime come out here to practice. Found the abandoned picnic and got worried at first. That is until we heard Kim yelling. Then a fireball nearly hit us and we pretty much ran for the nearest tree." To confirm his statement Clair violently nodded her head. Spotting the small, burnt hole on Crona's sleeve, he asked, "What were you two doing out here?"

"Practicing," said Soul with a nonchalant shrug. "And you guys?"

"Clair liked to ask you something," said the whip meister as he shoved his weapon forward. She tried to dig her heels into the earth, but was soon face to face with the albino. Tilling his head slightly, he waited for her to do something. A nervous smile accompanied the rapid secession of hand signs. Hands quickly went down as she looked at the ground her cheeks still a light red.

Raise eyebrows and a frown turned to Treou for a translation. "Short way of putting it- Would you like to go to the DWMA founding day party with me?" Defensively, he added, "Me meaning her and not me of course."

"Really," said the albino, clearly shocked. His gaze turned on the mute, seeing that his tone of voice didn't have a positive effect. Head bent down she looked as if she was rejected. "What with the long face?" A little bit of hope brighten those eyes as she glanced up. A shark like grin cracked onto his face as he said, "Just tell me where go and I'll meet you there."

Putting on a much brighter smile, she stepped to the side as her meister walked up. From his pant pocket he fished out a small slip of paper. "Here's all the information," he said as he handed it over, "address, home phone number, and her dad's name."

"Why would I need to know the name?" asked the puzzled albino.

"Because if you do call he's the one you'll be talking to. He does like it when people know his name. Come on Clair. We need to head back to class." With that said they headed toward the school. Before they were out of sight, the mute twisted her waist to wave a farewell.

The albino raised a hand in acknowledgement while his meister rolled his eyes. Staying quiet throughout the conversion, Crona spoke up. "You're taking a girl, which you can barely understand, out on a date. I'm no expert but being able to communicate with your date is important in any relationship."

Waving him off, the albino said, "So what she is a mute? It doesn't mean we can't have a fun time." Stuffing the paper into his pocket, he said, "Besides, it just a casual date. Not like anything serious going to happen."

"Whatever," said the meister, "let get back to class before Stein notices we are missing."

"Doubt he care if we're a few minutes late." Soul was probably right. The professor wasn't the type to hound on someone about not being on time. However, they needed to get back to the campus because some teachers would get upset if they were found off school property. So they marched toward the school. Silence reigning over the two as usually.

* * *

><p>Creepy; that was the single best word to describe Death City's at night. Daylight vanquished all of the disturbing aspect of the many gothic buildings that lined the streets, leaving only the beautiful parts of it to observe. As soon as the sun goes down the buildings took on a more chilling aspect - and it not just because the temperatures drop down into the forties. Instead of staying in place the buildings seemed to loom over the streets, trying to push forward while at the same time keeping its position. Cobbler roads buzzing with energy during the day were now empty. Void of all life expect for feral animals and rodents. With the craze moon at its highest point, swamping the city with pale moonlight, it wasn't hard to believe that the city's name reflected its true nature.<p>

Adrien walked down one of those streets with a light brown jacket over his work clothes. Shivering slightly, he tugged the coat closer. Eyes were glued to the grounds, though he still did not know the layout of the city. It was one of the few things in this town that doesn't unsettle him at night. _How can anyone live here?_ he mused.

Except for the plateaus that put the Death City into levels, it layout was like that of any decent size city that preserved its ancient articheture. Older buildings were huddled up against the mountain. As time went by more modern streets and buildings were farther out from the center. On the outskirt of the city was where most of the well to do or middle class families lived. In the older section was where DWMA students, labors, and single people rented out apartments.

Glancing at the buildings, the man summed up that the inhabitations either got used to it or sealed themselves away at night. A trash can crushed down in front of him, startling him to a stop. Garbage spilled out onto the street- a little of it just out of reach of his shoes. Among the trash was a dazed cat that looked as if it hadn't eaten in days. "Move cat," he said harshly as he nudged it with his shoe. It didn't take long for the feline to dash away with a piece of meat in its mouth.

"Should have bought a house farther out," muttered the man as he stepped over the trash. He already knew why he couldn't do that. Janitors weren't known for making large salaries. Buying a decent home in a more expensive neighborhood would have brought on suspicion. Another reason was much more psychological. The further from the school his home was the more time he had to commute. Since the new job he got require him to work into the night. He had no desire to walk through the macabre town any longer than he had to.

"Paris was never like this," he grumbled to himself. For another ten minutes he navigated the streets until he came to his destination. At the few stone steps he peered up at the apartment complex. The light green building was like so many others in this town- large, gothic, and ominous when night come around. From his pocket he pulled out a set of keys to open the door. Once he had entered he locked it and kept on walking until he was on the second floor.

_Room number is twenty-four_, he recalled as he walked through the dark halls. There were lights, but at this time of night it wasn't cost effect for the tenant to keep them on. When he reached his apartment he moved to unlock the door to found that it was already open. Not enough for anyone to notice if they just walked on by for it was mostly in the frame. However, the door hadn't been closed all the way.

He knew that he closed it this morning- at less he was pretty certain he did. It had been awhile since he needed to wake up earlier to work. Early being six o'clock in the morning which was a couple of hours before the school open. He wasn't a coffee drinker so no caffeine was in the bloodstream at the time. It was possible that in his drowsy state that he forgotten to locked the door.

_No,_ he rebuked himself. _I locked it this morning_. This leaves two possibilities. Either the tenant came by earlier or someone had invaded his home. For most people the sooner would be preferred than the later. Then again he just moved in about a week ago with little to his name. Except for the golden coins he had skillful hid, everything he bought recently would have little value or needed two people to get the item out of the building.

"Let see what damaged had been done," he whispered to himself. There was no reason to do so. No sane crook would stay long enough to risk being intruded on. Grabbing the handle, he slowly pushed the door open. The hinges creaked, an annoyance which in the wrong situation could turn out fatal. _Note to self. Get oil to lubricate hinges._

Opening the door wide enough to sneak his head through, he slowly leaned in. As expect the room was inky black- moonlight filtering in through a window disturbed the darkness from in its corner. Carefully, he sneaked through the narrow opening and closed it as quietly as possible. A hand quickly went to the walls, patting it in search of the light switch. Few seconds of this soon produced what he wanted.

Flipping the switch up, the lights flickered on down the short corridor and into the living room. The living room was a nice, small place to relax if not the fanciest set up. A once white sofa that had browned slightly from age pressed up against the far right wall between two doors. Across from it was a small battered, television set that had seen better years. A window in the white wall- some of the paint was peeling- was closed shut with no signs of tempering. Relatively clean, the room looked as he had left it.

A little tension left his body, but he wasn't going to let his guard down. Searching the remaining four rooms - sleeping quarter, bathroom, kitchen/dining room, and a closet- he found nothing that would indicate anyone but him had been here. "Just my imagination," he whispered in relief.

Going back into the kitchen, he grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge before heading to the sofa. He flopped onto the cushions with little grace. The Coke was set to the side as his other hand grabbed the remote off the arm. Within half a minute he settled on watching M*A*S*H as the show credits finished up. Putting the remote back down, he took hold of the soda can and popped open the lid. A few sips of the drink sooth any suspicion he had left.

"What are we watching?" asked a masculine voice.

"M*A*S*H," he replied, "a show about an American medical unit during the..." His eyes opened wide as he glanced over to where the voice came from. Sitting on the other side of the sofa, a large, muscular man with short, spiky brown hair wearing a tight, black shirt and prison pants watched the television. A ball and chain attached to his ankle complete the convict uniform. "Ah!" screamed the Frenchman, throwing the only thing in hand at the stranger.

The stranger shouldn't have turned his head for the can smacked him on the fore head. Sprays of sugary water got into his eyes, causing a burning sensation. "My eyes," he yelled as he stood up. Both hands, balled in fists, rubbed at the peepers.

"Get out of my house," screamed the Frenchman, charging at the massive man. Turning toward his voice, the stranger had no idea what was going on. Than he felt a shoulder ram into his stomach, forcing him to stumble back a little. The shock of being attack wore off quickly. Gripping the Frenchman by his arms, he lifted him up into the air and away from his body. "Put me down," he yelled, struggling to break free of the iron grips.

"What is going on?" yelled a silver- haired woman as she dashed out of the bathroom.

Though she wore only an orange bathrobe decorated with tadpoles, Adrien recognized the witch he met in French. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"We're here because my employer need us station near DMWA while staying out of sight." Tossing a glare at the stranger, she said, "Put him down Free."

"But Eurka," whined the now pronounce Free, "he tossed soda in my eyes."

Sighing, the witch said, "No offense, but you probably deserve it. You just sat next to a guy who how no idea you were even here."

"I didn't know any of you were in my house," grumbled the Frenchman. "Put me down this instance!" Free let go of him- he managed to land on his feet. Turning his stare on the witch, he said, "Explain to me exactly what going on."

"Like she said," explained Free, "we needed a place to crash for a little while. Conveniently, your apartment was the best we could found." An eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he stared at the man. He was a little taken back when he saw the mismatched- not naturally bloodshot- eyes, but he didn't show it.

"Is that witch crazy?" he shouted. A knock at the door remained him that he wasn't the only person living here. "Pardon me for a moment," he said as he went over to the front door. A couple minutes later he came back looking a bit roughen. "One of the neighbors told me to keep it down," he said in quieter tone. "Where were we? Oh yes. Is that witch crazy? Not too far from here is a school that hunts your kind down."

"Hunt our souls to be exact," said the witch, clearly unconcern.

"I'm surprise that I don't have every meisters in the city beating down my door. Doubt they will be generous to the man harboring witches. "

"Calm down," said Free, "no need to worry." Sitting back down on couch, he reclined his back as he said, "Eurka have something called soul protect on. To any meister with soul perception she looks to be a normal human being. I on the other hand just need to stay out of sight until we're ready. It's the same thing for the girl. As long as she and her weapon stay out of sight we will be fine."

"There a third person?" he asked stupidly, wondering where the three of them could had been hiding.

"She in your bedroom," said the witch as she glanced that way. "You won't mind if us girls use it for the next two weeks." Though he wanted to protest, he knew it would be pointless. A witch and a muscular man- even if he was normal which he had a feeling he was not- could overpower him within seconds. He had no idea why they have a child along, but if she was like any of his other guests...

"Fine," he said with a look of defeat, "be my guest, but the man is sleeping on the floor." Neither of them seemed to mind the one condition he asked. However, he knew that Free could easily get revenge by eating him out of home. A janitor does not make enough to support four people for long periods of time.

"So who is the girl in the bedroom?" He asked only because he already knew their names. Hopefully this won't require them to be rid of him later on.

For some reason both of them put on mocking smiles. "Rebecca Gorgon," answered the witch. "She preparing for a party that will be coming up in a couple of weeks at DWMA." At first the Frenchman didn't get it, but soon realization struck him.

"Only DWMA students are allow into the party," he stated, feeling concern for his well being.

"That is why within a few days prior to it someone who has access to the admission office will be able to sneak in papers about a new transfer student." For the first time did it hit home that he had just became a pawn for his employer's games. And she was willing to throw him away for whatever madness she is planning.

"I see," he said before turning his attention onto the T.V. The scene he saw was that of a man bleeding to death. Right now, it didn't seem farfetched that he might suffer a similar or more likely worse fate. From his room he heard an outburst of a masculine voice shouting that he needed to snack on some souls. There was the sound of flesh hitting…. Flesh? An angry shout from what must be the girl followed. Her vocabulary was very colorful for a child. _What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

><p>Mulleb: *Ready to strangle Sistine for she was pushing the irritating costumer a little too far.* That's quite enough.<p>

Sistine: But those aren't the right eggs. I asked for brown eggs and those not brown!

Mulleb: Sorry, but we don't have those in stock. *Glance to the readers. Smiling in relief.* Hey there, hope you enjoy the read.

Sistine: Don't ignore me! We're still in character and who are you talking to?

Mulleb: *Muttering.* You're enjoying this aren't you.

Sistine: A little.

Mulleb: Just stop for a moment. As for the readers please review. Good criticism, flames, and comments in general are welcome.


	16. Chapter 15

Sistine: *Putting up the last of the decoration.* This goes her and that goes there. *Crona walked into the room. Sistine rushed over to him and hands him some table cloth.* Go spread those out on the tables. *Bolted off.*

Crona: What are you doing?

Sistine: *Working on drapes.* What does it look like I'm doing? *Rush over to table to test drinks.* I'm putting on the final details before the party start. Mulleb would be here to help, but he's busy at the moment.

Crona: So this for the founding day's party?

Sistine: Yes and it will be similar to that in the canon series, but I won't be telling you the differences. Didn't I tell to put those out? As for the readers this chapter is shorter than usually, but I still hope you enjoy the read.

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><p>Chapter Fifteenth<p>

It was the wet season on the African savanna. A layer of black clouds plunged the world into semi-darkness. For miles around the flat landscape give a clear view. Dense, tall grass and bushes, however, provided the perfect cover for predators; for smaller prey a place to hide. At the moment most animals were braving the storm or had taken cover in a cave in the occasional rock outcrops or under the trees that dotted the savanna.

As wet season imply it was very wet this time of year. A steady rain fell onto the greedy land, soaking into the earth and filling up dry river beds. With the rain came heat and humid that was more associated with that of U.S Deep South or South America jungles. Those who wore the wrong clothing would feel sticky as sweat, heat, and humidity intermixed with one another. Even those who were wearing the right clothes could still feel uncomfortable.

Medusa was no exception. Wearing baggy cargo short, white shirt and sneakers she stood under an black umbrella that particularly worked for her torso was dry. However, rich, dark mud seeped through the seams of her shoes as water blown by the wind splatter onto her legs. Against her better judgment she traveled out here to seek out a person. She was able to hitchhike into the deeper part of the savanna with a researcher who been studying the local prides. Hours of listening to the woman dull observation- the stories weren't terrible, but the way she told them was- plus the wet hike was taking it toll. To put it in lame-man term, she was miserable.

With the reflex of a cobra her hand smacked the back of her neck. Pulling it back, she grimaced as she looked at the huge blood stain. Mosquitoes. Their sizes, let along the blood sucking, send chills down her spine. At least it wasn't as bad as early - the rain acted as a deterrent. There was still some of the parasites buzzing around her head, but they wouldn't eat her alive as quickly.

Wiping the blood off onto her short, she glanced back up at her destination. Maybe less than a quarter mile away was a small hut and an open well. The small sign of civilization seemed a bit bizarre out her in this wilderness. Then there was the fact that the hut was standing on national park grounds, but considering some of the African's governments. It wouldn't be surprising if a person or two was able to stay out of sight.

Grumbling, she treaded on toward the hut, wishing that she brought bug repellant. Not too far from the structure she spotted a giant of a man. Dark browns eyes watched her as toned arms crossed a coffee black chest. Any hair on his head was shaven down to small studs while his face was clean shaved. Only clothing to speak was a pair of white pants, sandals, and a wooden, necklace shaped into a tortuous shell around his neck.

As she neared the man he did nothing more than watched her from in front of the wooden hut's entrance under the slanted, straw roof - where the rain couldn't get him. If the bugs bother him he showed no signs of it. His face was set into a neutral, slightly menacing expression that didn't convey any of his thoughts.

When she stood in front of him they just stared at each other. _Not going say anything big man,_ she thought as she peered around him. He did nothing to stop her. There was only one way in and if she had the right place. The woman who lived here wouldn't have a simple human bodyguard guarding her front door.

"Lovely day out, isn't it," she said just to get a reaction out of him. His eyes looked at her as if asking if she was sane, but did nothing else. "Not one for idle chit chat."... "I'll take that as a no. Mind if I stand right next to you." …. _Talk about strong and silent. _Closing her umbrella, she quickly rushed to the man's right side.

The ground under the roof was damp, but hadn't dissolved into mud. Thankfully, the wind was blowing in the opposite direction, leaving her out of the rain. She shook herself slightly to get of rid some of the water. A few stray droplets landed on the giant. Not surprisingly, his lips remained sealed shut.

"I'm here to see Mother," said the witch.

Silence followed as the two stared off into the rain. Than the man turn his head to look down on her with a thoughtful expression. Unlacing his arms, he turned around and entered the hut. Words foreign to her ears echoed. A voice that sounded distance answered back in the same tongue. Pocking his head out, he said some more words she didn't understand, but she took it as an invitation.

She quickly entered the hut to found a small room with nothing in it. In the ground was a trap door which the man held the door up. A hand gestured for her to go first. Nodding, she cautiously stepped onto stairs that led into darkness. She felt that she was being led into a trip, but she knew better. The man just wanted her in a position where he could see her.

As soon as she found the floor the trap door slammed shut. Footsteps landed heavily on the stairs and soon enough the man was behind her with a lit torch in hand. His free hand waved for her to lead. Without replying she walked forward. The tunnel they were in smelled of fresh dirt intermixed with the aroma of cooked meat. The earthy floor was leveled off, leaving a flat platform for her shadow to extend on. She couldn't see any farther than the flames allowed.

Uncomfortable about this she glanced over her shoulder. Shadows danced on the giant form, making him look unreal. She wondered why he didn't give the light to her. Would make things go faster if she could see her footing. Then again he probably traveled through this tunnel so many times he felt certain that nothing would trip her up. This knowledge wasn't exactly comforting.

Near the end of the tunnel light spilled out of a room. The man yelled something which someone from the room replied back. Passing through the opening the witch felt a tingling sensation all over her body. As quickly as it came it was gone. She was none the worst so she guessed whatever it was doesn't see her as a threat.

Electricity provided light for moderate size room, but that was one of the few modern commodities she could see. Place to one side of the room was a mat surrounded by a net. Opposite of this was shelving built into the wall filled with books, plants, parts of animals, and a few dishes. A few, colorful dresses hang from a line near the northern wall. Roots stuck down from the ceiling along with a couple of metal pipes that must goes up to the surface. In the middle of the room was a good size pot- top covered- was suspended over a fire by a thick stick, which was propped up by a couple more sticks tied together at both ends, through a metal loop.

Sitting behind the fire was a black woman. The years had weathered her face just right that even with the wrinkles it looked to be ageless. Iron gray hair was pulled into a bun behind her head. Dark black eyes filled with warmth and gentleness greeted her guest. She gave them a yellow toothy grin; a gap was between her right bottom canine and forth tooth. A simple but vivid green dress covered her lean body.

"Good afternoon my children," she said, her voice sounding much like that of a mother talking to a young child. Gesturing with her hands, she said, "Take a seat. The stew is almost done and I'll be more than happy to have a guest."

"Thank you Mother," said Medusa with a slight bow. Sitting with her legs crossed, opposite from where the elder sat, she placed the umbrella to the side, keeping her gaze from the woman's eyes. The man put the torch out and set it on the ground before he went to stand off near by. Close enough to the elder in case something goes wrong.

"Ekundayo," said Mother, "please get us the dishes." Nodding, the giant walked over to the shelves to collect the wanted items. "It been a while since you last came here," she said to Medusa. "You were a quiet little girl back then. Not the big shoot witch who planned on turning the world on its head." Wooden bowls with a spoon in them was set before the two women. "Thank you Ekundayo. Now be a dear and serve us the meal. You may have some after we get ours."

The man lifted the lid off and put it to the side. A ladle poured the stew into the bowls. As he did this the elder said, "Gazelle, turnips, carrots, and a pinch of salt for flavoring. May not be much, but it does fill the empty belly." The witch nodded her head. "Speak up little one. I know that you're more accustomed to the Western ways. Don't fear of offending me in any way."

"Thank you Mother," said the witch as she looked up. Out of politeness she took a few mouthful of the soup. It wasn't bad at all. "Who's the new child?"

"Ekundayo," she said as she glanced over to the man. He was silently eating his own stew. "He's a Nigerian boy who fled from the civil war. His family was butcher in the violence and he was a sack of bones with skin when I found him. Very sweet boy, but he's quiet around strangers."

This was the reason why most of the witch and warlock committees refer her as Mother. One of the oldest witches that ever lived had a heart of a caretaker. May it be one of her kind, a human, or a monster she never turn away a person in need. This benevolent nature had alienated her from Mabaa, but to many she was highly revered for at one time or another she had given aid to many outcasts. Most people just call her Mother, but the few who do know her true name was so rare that it was consider an honor.

The same nature that made her generous also made her a steadfast pacifist. Only in extreme situations had she ever raise a hand against another. To convince the elder to join the war path would compel any doubters to follow along. Obviously, she knew this as well and no one get as old as dirt by being an idiot.

"He seemed to be doing well," said Medusa, not noticing that she was eating the stew.

"He is," said the elder between bites, "though I sometime wonder if he had this problem called post-traumatic stress disorder. Young he was when terrible things happen to him. It's hard for the younger ones to cope with death in just a violent environment."

"It always a pity when the innocent get catch in the cross fire."

"Yes it is, but you don't have to agree with me for my sake." Sheepishly, the witch grinned as she reminded herself this wasn't just any old lady. "So how is your little girl? Have she yet to threaten your life?"

"Told me plenty of times I should screw this animal or another." Chuckling, she added, "She also trash talk me in almost every way short of taking my life. I doubt she never thought of it, but at the time being she hadn't taken it seriously."

The elder sighed as she served herself another serving. "Hard to believe mothers can do just a thing. It's almost unbelievable that one could brag about their abusive ways." Medusa shrugged not all that concern about her elder's opinion. "But we are not her to discuss your horrid parental skills. We must speak of the foolishness of your recent choices."

"Foolish would be too strong of a word." Pausing for a moment, the witch stared at the small flames, watching it reach out for anything to satisfy it hunger. "Fools run head on into danger without even knowing what they are facing. I on the other hand comprehend the actions I'm about to take."

"You understand that you're replacing order with chaos," asked the elder with a stern tone. "Asura isn't a man- if he could ever be called that- to temper with. Fear ate away at his heart until nothing more than madness remained. By releasing him you risk the sanity of an entire world."

"If Asura isn't freed than we lose the only chance to bring true change to this world." Pointing to the giant, she said, "Those humans whom you treat as pets, deep down, are nothing more than self-filling beings. Death keeps their true nature suppress by impressing 'order' on them. What I want to do is clear away this illusion into what it should be. We should allow nature to run its course so that witches can again be as they once were. Rulers..."

"So Queen Medusa," said the elder, a bit of acid seeping through, "are you trying to convince me to join or reject your proposal even more. Anarchy isn't what the world need and your ideas aren't even original. Almost every war ever fought was because two sides too caught up in their own interests to think clearly." Setting her empty bowl down, she walked over to the shelves and grab a few plants.

Bringing them back over, she threw them into the pot and said, "Just a few spices to add some flavor." As soon as she sat down she gently scowled Medusa. "This is what I have to say about your rebellion. Mabaa's throne is crumbling to dust. Our council is growing in power every day. When the time is right we will petition to Lord Death to finish her off. Until that day we should be strengthening our ties with the humans. They have all the rights to fear us if they knew of every insult we done to their race. However, we have the time to amend those wrongs before they decide that we are fit for extinction. Let them think that Mabaa's is the enemy. We can't lose the shaky peace we already have with them."

A sad smile formed as the witch shook her head. "Do you honestly believe that will happen?" Silence was the answer she got- she perceived it as being uncertain. "Killed or be killed, Mother. When all the rules and formalities are wiped away this single statement is the only truth. Charity is just a simply way for the stronger to manipulate the weak so they can use them for their own ends. You can't honestly say that you never asked anything out of your children in return of your service."

"I had," said Mother, bringing a smirk on Medusa's face. It was quickly wiped away as the elder said, "All I asked out of them is treat each person like themselves, never turn away a lacking man, and to give their elders due respect. What more can I ask of my little ones?" Softening her tone, she said, "Some of those I have helped turn from the right path. It's never too late to find the way again."

For some reason this simple statement struck a nerve. "Who said that I ever needed to," shouted the witch as she stood up and chucked an empty bowl at the elder's face. Before the wood could make connection the giant dashed forward and swiped it away, sending the bowl cluttering to the floor.

It was Mother turn to put on a sad smile as she gazed at the angered witch. "I never said that you need it or wanted it my dear. I simply said that there are people out there who do." This is the reaction she wanted out of her. She wanted Medusa to look like a temperamental child so she could make herself look better. The witch would not give her the satisfaction.

"I'm sorry for my rash behavior," she said monotonously as she sat back down. "There was no reason for me to lash out like that. Please forgive me."

"Apologize accept," she said with a warming smile. To the giant she said a few calming words that send him over to the wall. "So tell me how you plan on thrusting the world into madness. Though many magical beings and a few humans knew that the Kishin never died, nobody knows where he disappeared to. How did the snake figure out a god's secret?"

"It was more of a hunch than an educated guess," she said with a small smile. "My logic ran on the line of why is Death City in a middle of the Nevada's desert? Starting a school out there for the sole reason of solitude doesn't make much sense. There are more sustainable places that can provide the same isolation. Than there the fact that in the past centuries Death had never once step outside of the city's limit. Surely there must be something of great importance to keep him rooted there."

"A little research turned up some interesting facts. The battle that ensured the Kishin imprisonment took place out in that general location. Death must have thought he was too dangerous to move. So instead risking the chance of releasing him on accident..."

"He built an entire city around the burial site," said the elder with a nod. "A bit far-fetch, but it is possible."

Standing up and picking up her umbrella, the witch asked, "Is there anything else you like to know?"

"No my child, there is nothing else."

"It's nice seeing you again," she said with some warmth. "The offer still stands- never too late to join the winning team." With nothing more to say Medusa turned around and headed toward the exit.

Mother watched the witch leave. Once out of sight she slowly shook her head. In the giant's native tongue, she said, disappointment lacing her voice, "I fear that girl's genius more than anything else." From his position the giant gazed at his elder. He did not show it, but if she was concern than he should be as will. "And I fear that I will have no choice in the end but to join."

"Mother," said the giant as he took a step forward. She glanced his way and gave a nod of her head to show he could speak. "I had a hard time following your conversion, but I heard her say Kishin. What does she want to do with the mad jackal?"

"She plans on harnessing the jackal's madness as a weapon." Eyes filled up with pure disbelief as a hand covered his heart. "I speak no lie. Current order of the things is what she against and she believed that there is only one way of replacing it." Grabbing the ladle, she started to stir the stew. As she stared into the pot, she said in a prophetic way. "The land will face the demon again. She'll make sure of that. One way or another she always twist events into her favor."

Picking up a spoon, she dipped it into the stew and brought it to her lips. After sampling it, she said, "Ekundayo, listen carefully. Follow the girl wherever she goes. Observe what she does and make sure you see every detail of it. Do not let on you can talk to her in any language she speak. If she able to tell you that she needs help, give it. Everything short of your life and dignity will be given."

"But Mother," he said as he walked over to her. "I cannot leave you by yourself. Someone much..."

He placed a hand on her shoulder which she did not shoo away. However, she glanced into his eyes and firmly said, "There are others who can care for me. Follow and watch her. Bring back the tales of the terrors that might come. If we're lucky she will fail in her mad quest."

"If she was to fail you wouldn't send me away," he stated.

Slowly getting to her feet, she smiled as she stared into his eyes. "Be careful my son." Nodding, he let go of her shoulder and headed to the door. He did not look back as he entered the tunnel. "May the Creator grant you safety," she whispered. _Let hope the Creator grants us all his protection, _she thought wryly as turn her attention on the stew.

The rain had slackened into a dazzle. Other than that nothing have change from early. Umbrella open, Medusa marched forward with grim determination. Mother would rather walk in boundaries set for her than challenge them. She should have known that. It was a waste of the little time she had left to prepare for what was coming. If she kept up a decent speed she could reach the road and caught a ride to the nearest airport with time to spare.

Through a six sense she felt someone following close behind her. Twisting her waist to look back, she frowned at the incoming giant. She turned back around and waited for him to cover the few yards between them. Wordlessly, he stood there, staring at her. "Mother thought I need a babysitter?" she grumbled, "How kind of her." She wanted to tell the man that he could go straight back where he came from, but she knew better. Language barriers were a hassle and even if she could make him understand she wouldn't send him away. A gift from Mother wasn't something anyone turned down lightly.

"You wouldn't mind if I bring a friend with me," she said to herself, practicing what lie she would tell the pilot. Since it was off the top of her head she knew she needed a better excuse. "Well, I got some time before we get there. Let see if the officials take brides." The giant didn't say anything as he followed the witch. In the back of his mind he was thinking of strangling her in his massive hands. He had yet to kill another man or ever thought of it- much less a woman- but better her life than the life of billions. However, he kept his hands at his sides, hoping that things would not turn for the worst.

* * *

><p>Middle of the school day with class in secession was the best way of getting around a school without being notice. Of course there are teachers patrolling the halls while the occasional student walked somewhere for whatever reason. For the most part neither concern a janitor for they were only important if something needed cleaning or a document needed to be delivered. It wasn't in his job description, but many of the teachers saw the maintenance stuff as deliverer boys.<p>

In this case Adrein wasn't upset about it for this meant he can carry the set of papers he held under his arm without looking conspicuous. Nervously glancing at each person who passed by, he expected someone to stop him. That wasn't likely, but if someone started asking question this will make things so much harder.

The papers he carried were the transfer report for a certain girl he rather wished he didn't knew about. Her weapon partner would be the one he actually wants to forget, but that doesn't matter. What does matter that the papers he held get to their destination without any complications. Early, he glance them over for curiosity sake and he must say they seemed legit. Even the forged school secretary's signature looked like the real thing.

But it wasn't enough that the papers were signed by the secretary. They must be shown to and signed by Lord Death himself. No one dared to forge his signature. So here he was heading to the Death's room, hoping that the reaper wouldn't see through the facade. A more rationale part of him knew that nothing would go wrong. However, the feeling of a noose around his neck would not go away.

It didn't help he flinch each time he pass a teacher. All of them were train killing machine since all of the teachers were meisters or weapons. He learned this the hard way when he accidentally spilled coffee onto a woman. Winching at the thought, he forced himself to stay focus on the mission at hand.

With little difficulty he found his way to the large, rounded door that served as Death's room entrance. Gripping the knocker hanging from a shinigami skull, he pounded it twice against the wood. "Come in," called a low, almost cartoonish voice. The door creaked open wide enough to let him through. He quickly walked in and once he was through the door closed shut.

Gulping, he stared at the guillotines that lined the only path forward. Every blade shined as if they hadn't been used which made the image of him being slice in half more prominent. With haste he rushed down the path, keeping his sight on the ground. It wasn't long until he was in the main room. Shaped into a dome the room mimicked the outside world. Rounded walls were painted sky blue and white, wispy clouds moved across the rocky surface. Rickety crosses dotted the sandy soil that seemed to stretch out for a mile. In the middle of the room was a round, raise platform where a large oval mirror sat.

Standing on the platform was the most ridiculous looking man he had ever seen. A black, jagged robe covered his body. Where his legs should be were greatly out of proportion to his torso, seeming too small to support him. A plain, cartoonish skull mask hid his face. "Hi ya," he said in a voice that no real person could actually have. As hard it was to believe this man was none other than Lord Death himself.

"Good afternoon Lord Death," said the Frenchman as he walked onto the platform. "Sorry if I'm bothering you..."

"Not at all," interrupted the reaper, his eyeholes smiling. "So what brought you here today?"

"Delivering paperwork," he said as he held out the item. "Your signature is needed to make it official."

From within his robe the reaper took one of his large, foam like hands out. Huge, rectangular fingers, with surprising good motor skills, took hold of the papers. Scanning through them, his mask remained impassive as the Frenchman did his best not to sweat. "Strange," said the reaper, "a bit late in the year for a new student." The Frenchman shrugged while his mind did its best not to go into a panic. "Oh well," he exclaimed cheerfully, "everything is as it should be. Just gave me a minute and then you can return this back to whoever running the counter."

Mentally sighing, Adrein said with a small smile, "I'll do that as soon as possible."

Another of Death's hands came out and reached into the robe. "Let see now," he muttered as the hand roamed. "I'm certain that there a pen somewhere. Just out of curiosity do you plan on attention the party this Saturday?"

"The founding day one," said the Frenchman to clarify. "I'm afraid not. I got some personal matters which I much attention to."

"That's too bad," said the reaper, sounding disappointed. "Who's going to clean up after we're done?"

Forcing a smile, he replied, "Does it usually get messy?"

"Not really," said the reaper as he pulled out a pen. Using one of his hands as a backboard, he scanned the documents in search of the dotted line. "It more of a casual gathering than a real party, but it will be fun. There will be enough food, drinks, and entrainment to go around."

"I'll bet that things will get interesting this year," said Adrein. _Things are definitely going get messy when the party crashers arrive. _

"Maybe," said the reaper as he signed the papers. Handing them over to the Frenchman, he added, "The students this year are a lively bunch." The Frenchman muttered an agreement as he turned to leave. "Oh," exclaimed the reaper, causing him to freeze in place, "after you're done with that please come back and clean up the blood."

"Blood, sir?" he asked as he scanned the platform. There wasn't a speck of dirt to be found must less blood.

"Over here," said the reaper, walking over to the area. Following him, the man walked over to the edge behind the mirror. Both reaper and man had to bend their backs to see it. Right off the edge a red head man was face down in a crimson pool. Blood poured out of his forehead, making the pool larger and coloring the surrounding sand.

"Spirit was acting up," explained the reaper.

"Shouldn't we help him?"

"He'll be fine," said the reaper as he straightened up. "Now hurry off and deliver those papers. I want this blood cleaned up as soon as possible."

"Yes Lord Death." It didn't take him long to give the documents over to a pint-size woman who seemed to overwhelm with paperwork to notice anything that wasn't directly in front of her. After that he grabbed a couple of bags of sand and soil, a shovel, and a wagon. He hauled this stuff over to Death's room. The man from early was on his feet when he got there, talking to his superior as if nothing had happened. As he worked on replacing the bloody soil the reaper and the man spoke as if he wasn't there. Party planning was the subject at mind. Not once did he hear of anything that could remotely be called security being of any concern.

* * *

><p>"Hold still," growled Eruka. In response the girl muttered a word that no proper lady should say. "What was that?" She chose not to answer. "I thought so. If you stop moving around, we would have been done early." The brush in the witch's hand once again attempt to go through the hair with little resistance. Barely a quarter of a way down, it snagged onto another knot.<p>

Without mercy the witch tugged at the knot-the girl whimpered in pain. "Does Medusa every tell you to take care of this rat nest?" For the past hour the frog witch stood in front of the mirror while the girl sat on a wooden chair. Armed with metal scissors and a brush she had been snipping away at the unruly, hair. Based on how long it was she guessed that the girl never been to a hair dresser. Nor teach how to properly comb her hair for it was a tangled mess.

If it was up to the girl she would had left the hair as it was. However, this wasn't an option so Eruka was given the daunting task of making it somewhat decent. She wasn't a stylist, but it was either her or gave Free a shot at it.

A wig worth of ash blond hair lay at their feet. Several clumps of it were on the girl's blue bathrobe while a few fallen into the sink. With one strong tug the knot will soon joined it hairy companions. "There, now let try this again," said Eruka as she pulled the knot out of brush's teeth. The teen physically flinch as she felt it go through her hair.

Every fiber of her being was telling her to lash out at the frog witch. She may not enjoy the part of doing her hair, but she certainly loved inflicting the pain. Swore words and insults of every kind were building up behind her teeth- ready to be let loose whenever she pleased. _Forget about words! I'll sock her in the mouth! _But she couldn't do that. That would be out of character.

A couple more times the brush went through her hair, finding nothing else to snag on. "Look like we're done with that," said the witch as she set the brush down. "So Rebecca, what do you think of it?"

The whole time Eruka did her hair she wished the witch would stop. What was wrong with the way it was? But through the pain she was able to watch as the 'rat nest' became organized. A little more than shoulder length her hair looked fine. No rugged edges and it don't look like someone took sears to them. Overall, she grudgingly admitted that it wasn't bad.

"You did very well," she said, her voice quiet and almost timid. "Much better than it was before." That was a straight out lie, but than again that what acting was. Lie well enough and people will believe that the lie was truth.

Shrugging, the witch said, "Go over to the tub and get under the shower head. We got to wash it." Without arguing the girl did as she was told. Putting her chest over the tub, she positioned her head so it was under the shower head. "This is going to be cold at first," said the witch as she turned the facet on. Felt as if ice cold rain was pelting her head. The witch grabbed a bottle of shampoo and poured the thick liquid onto the girl's head. Not at all gentle she scrubbed it into her scalp.

From the girl's back a quiet snicker tested her already thin patience. "Shut up," she whispered. Five minutes later she was drying her hair with a towel.

Eruka stood off to the side, staring at the girl. "You do look different from early," she stated, "but those eyes are going to draw attention. Think you can pretend being blind. We're going to have to put a cloth over your eyes, but I'm thinking you could use soul precision to get around."

"I don't know," said the girl as she stared at the ground. "My second sight isn't that strong. I don't want to hurt myself."

Rolling her eyes, the witch thought, _A little much, but that the idea._ "Don't run into any walls and you'll be fine. We still need to finish up with your hair?"

Grinning uncertainly, she said, "Isn't it fine the way it is?"

"It needs to be combed several more times before this weekend to keep it untangle, but that isn't what I meant. What do you think about ponytails?" The girl gave a puzzling look that said 'pony what?' "You know,"- the witch pulled her own hair back into the style- "it when people do their hair like this."

"So that what they are call. Why do people do that?"

"Helps keep long hair out of the eyes."

Shrugging, the girl said, "I guess we can do that. Will this be the last thing we be doing tonight?"

"Tonight, yes, but don't think we're done. We still need to see how the dress fit you and I need to practice my make-up skills. It been awhile since I used the stuff."

Groaning, the girl asked, "Is this all necessary? When I was down in Mexico people were given a choice if they wanted to dress up or not."

Eurka sighed as she sat down in the chair. "That is how that festival works, but a formal party like this is a little more complex. One must dolled themselves up so people won't think you're insulting the host. For boys all they need to do is put on a suit and make sure their hair is done right. Girls have to find the right dress to wear, style our hair, and work on our makeup."

"Why?"

Not feeling the need to explain the evolution of social rules she said, "It just how the world works. Be happy that it's only semi-formal." A sudden idea occurred to her, putting a grin on her face. "Think of it like this. I'm going to make you all pretty so for one night you can pretend to be normal. For a little while you won't need to worry about killing anyone. Just mingle with the crowd, have some fun, and stay put until the signal is given."

Putting the towel down, the girl gazed at her uncertainly. "I could meet other kids without harming them," she asked, sounding a bit sheepish. The idea rolled inside her skulls several times. Socializing with people of her own age group sounded great, but it been so long the thought seemed so weird to her.

"And the only way I can assure that without any problems is to dress you up. So are you going to be cooperative or not." She received a slow nod. Standing back up, the witch gestured to the chair. "Then let take care of that hair." Without a word the girl sat back down. The comb didn't scare her when it started combing again. She was too deep in thought to pay it any mind.

* * *

><p>Sistine: *Wiping sweat off forehead with hands.* Done and not a moment to soon. Hope you guys the read. As always please review. Good criticism, flames, and comments are always welcome. *Grinned at Crona in a knowing manner before rushing off.*<p>

Crona: L-like she said. Have a good day.


	17. Chapter 16

Sistine and Mulleb: Happy Halloween!

Mulleb: I know that it's a week early, but to anyone out there that enjoy the holiday I hope you have fun.

Sistine: Yeah. *Dashed off and reappeared in an Freddy - from Nightmare Down on Elm Street- costume.* Let the ghouls and demons raise up to cause great fright.

Mulleb: Why are you dress up like that and of a charterer which I only heard of before?

Sistine: Hey, at less you heard of Freddy and he sounds like a bad guy. Oh else could go into people dreams and kill them there?

Mulleb: A person who I never want the joy of meeting. As for the readers I hope you enjoyed the read.

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><p>Chapter Sixteen<p>

School events like the DWMA foundation eve party was a night where one goes out with their friends to have fun. If one were to have a date it also makes for a casual place where each dater can get to know each other better. However, to do either of these things required a person to get off their behind so they can get ready. For the utmost time Soul walked over to the yellow couch that sat against the living room wall. It has been a couple of minutes since he last checked on his meister. Crona haven't budge nor made an attempt to turn off the television. A hand idly stroke Blair's back, the feline purred loudly as she lay on a cushion.

"You're seriously going to sit here all night, watching T.V," asked Soul as he blocked the meister view of the screen.

Not even looking him in the eye, Crona replied, "I'm also going make dinner for Blair and me. Probably go on a walk after the program is over. Than I got a good book that I need to finish." Taking a moment to looked Soul over, he joked, "You're seriously going to wear that to the dance?"

Dressed in a black suit the weapon wore a white shirt under the jacket. A hand adjusted the black tie as a black shoe rubbed against his ankle. "Just because you can't pull the look off doesn't mean you have to insult me," he said with a smirk. Shrugging, Crona peered around his partner to watch the nature show. In irritation, he said, "Are a bunch of animals more important than your friends?"

"The guilt card won't work this time." Glancing up to the clock hanging on the wall, Crona frowned. "Aren't you supposed to pick Clair up in few minutes?"

Eyes shoot wide open as the weapon spanned around to stare at the clock. "It can't be that late." Rushing toward the door, he shouted as went through, "You can join us when you want something better to do." He slammed the door, causing Blair to raise her head. With the eyes the meister and cat exchanged a silence message. Putting a hand up along with three fingers, he counted down. At the same time he folded the last digit Soul came rushing back in. "Forgot the damn keys!"

In his room the albino noisily searched through it. Rolling his eyes, the meister continue to watch his show. Several seconds later Soul rushed out with a soul shaped keychain, complete with keys, in hand. Pausing in front of Crona, he asked, "Still not going?"

"Have fun and take the girl anywhere else but here for the after party entertainment."

"Funny," he said sarcastically. "See you guys later." Walking out the door, he pulled it shut before breaking out into a sprint.

"Think he'll remember that clock is ten minutes fast?" asked the meister.

Chuckling, the cat said, "Base on how fast he ran I highly doubt it." As if to prove her right, Soul's motorcycle roared as it bolted down the street. "There he goes now," she said as an ear cocked toward the noise. "If by any chance he does bring a girl home can I embarrass him?"

"Unless they get a too feisty you should leave them alone. It was hard enough to explain to our landlord that you're a roommate." Ears flatten against her head as she pouted. Smiling, Crona added, "How does tuna fish casserole sound for dinner?"

The way her ears and tail perked up was enough of an answer. Gleefully, she exclaimed, "Can we go to the guy who give me free fish?"

Shrugging, he said, "Sure, but you know I don't like it when you take advantage of people."

"Not my fault men are willing to give me free stuff to see a little flesh," she replied as she laid her head back down. Shaking his head, the meister resumed watching his program as he scratched the cat's favorite spot between the ears. "A little to the right," she purred. More than willing to oblige he move his fingers. "That's it," she sighed, body going limp.

For several minutes there was silence between the two as they watched the golden lion tamarins- a small monkey- scamper from tree to tree in the Amazon Rainforest. "Crona," said Blair, speaking in a tone that told the meister to stop scratching. "Why don't you want to go to the party? If I could I would go. No offense, but this show is kind of boring."

"I disagree," he said, "but the show isn't the reason I'm staying here- it just that I don't like to be around large crowds. Too much noise and too little space makes me uncomfortable." Head sagging and palm to his forehead, he added, "Besides, I remembered the last time Soul dragged me to a party. It took me days to get back in my comfort zone."

The cat said with a nod of her head, "I guess that make sense. So how long does this show last?"

"At less another half an hour," he said. Seeing the brief moment of despair, he added, "I think there a ball of yarn in the closet. Want me to go get it?" She nodded her head so fast that he thought it would pop off. Getting to his feet, he walked into a short hallway to a door. Several seconds later he returned with a big, blue ball of yarn in hand.

On her paws Blair ogled the ball that was placed in front of her face. "Want it," said Crona. A paw reached out to swipe it, but he pulled the ball away in a teasing manner. She didn't mind for this playful attitude was welcome. He did this a couple more times before gently tossing it toward the television. Getting into pouncing position, the cat wiggled her butt in the air before springing forward. Tackling the ball, she enwrapped her body around it and rolled onto her back.

As she blithely swatted the yarn between her paws Crona sat back down on the couch. "We can go get some tuna after the show is over." Too indulged with what she was doing the cat paid him no mind. Smiling, the boy reclined his back, already enjoying the peaceful night to come. _I wonder how Soul's night is starting out,_ he mused to himself.

* * *

><p>Standing on the stair steps of a white house, Soul lend against the wall as he waited for his date. Five minutes early then expected, he was politely told by the girl's father- an average, middle age man- that Clair would be out in a few minutes. The man was quick to slam the door, but he didn't take offense. If the general stereotype about men were true then protectiveness of the daughter was foreseen. So there he stood, plotting on how he would get back at his meister for what he done.<p>

When the door creaked open he turned his body and straightened up, expecting to see the girl's father. Instead, his eyes bulged as he looked Clair over. A simple yellow dress hugged her body like a second skin at the torso while spreading out at the legs. Red, short heel shoes covered her feet. Letting her hair down, it fell in wavy waves, stopping right below her shoulders.

Her head was facing inside the house, nodding to her father as a sign of farewell. This short distraction gave the albino the time to close his mouth and wipe away blood dripping from his nose. As she closed the door, he put on a nonchalant smile and said, "Good evening beautiful." Turning to face him, she smiled while placing a hand out. Not sure what to do Soul grabbed it.

_Thanks_, said Clair, but Soul didn't know that._ You're not half bad to look at either. _Startled, the albino ripped his hands away as he looked the area over for the location of the mysterious voice. Clair's fingers quickly wrap back around his hand. _It's me who is talking. Well, not talking per say, but it is my voice you're hearing. _

Turning a pair of confused eyes on her, he asked, "How are you..."

_It's the_ _same way that you communicate with your meister in weapon form when you don't want someone to overhear conversions. I send small amount of my soul wavelength through my skin into your nervous system. Then the brain interrupted those signals as words. It's actually not that difficult to do. Any weapon or meister could do it as long they have a decent control over their soul wavelength._

"So this means I can understand you without playing a guessing game."

_Pretty much._

"So why did you needed your meister to asked me out?"

Blushing, she said, _Isn't this a bit awkward._

"It is," he admitted as he pulled his hand away. "We better get going. Don't want to be late." Nodding in agreement, she peered around him to take a look at their ride. Sitting on the curb outside the driveway, was a sleek, orange motorcycle. In bold green letters a license plate placed in the rear said Soul Eater.

"Ever rode on a cycle," asked Soul when he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She shook her head.

A few minutes later the motorcycle was roaring down the road. Wearing no helmets, the wind whipped away at the riders' hair. _Oh my god! Oh my god!_ Face buried in Soul's back Clair clung to the boy as if her life depended on it. Mentally chuckling, Soul put on a little more speed to see if the girl would hold him any tighter. _We're going too fast!_

"Relax," he shouted as he eased up on the gas, "I got it under control. Aren't you having fun?"

_I'm both thrill and terrified! _

"Then enjoy the experience and leave the worrying to me." Being a regular on the bike he easily maneuvered through the city with little trouble. If anyone read the mute's mind one would think her date was driving like a manic. "We're here," said the albino as he parked in front of the school's steps. If it wasn't for the death hold she had on him. The mute would have jumped off the moment the bike came to a halt. When she showed no signs of loosening her grip, he said, "You got to let go of me for us to get off."

Blushing, the mute brought her arms to her sides and sat up straight as a stick. Soul got off first and offered a hand to help her. She accepted it. _Thanks,_ she said as she got down.

"No need say so, but your welcome."- In a more humorous tone- "Like me to hold your hand when we climb the stairs."

_I can walk by myself,_ she replied. She pouted at the mocking yeah-right smile the albino gave. Without a word he turned around and started walking up the steps. Getting to his side, she stayed close to him for many other students and school stuff was arriving at that moment. Most came by foot, but a few vehicles were parked at the base of the stairs. All of the people that were present dressed in a similar fashion as the two.

When they reached the courtyard Soul immediately spotted a few of his friends. "Hey guys," he shouted, waving a hand over his head, "over here."

Kid was the first to spot them. He wore a white suit with his usually shinigami skull bow tie which held in place a wrinkled, white cloth. The Thompson sisters, at his sides, wore red zip up suits with a white undershirt and black shoes. Wouldn't be surprising if their meister had picked out their outfits, but Liz ruined the symmetry by pulling her hair into a bun- Patty didn't bother to do her hair.

"Good evening Soul," he said in a bored tone, "nice to see you're here. Who's the lady accompanying you?"

Soul said as he gestured to his date, "This is Clair. Clair, these are some of my friends." Putting on a friendly smile, the mute put out a hand in greeting. Taking it, the trio respectable gave their greetings and names.

"Where's Crona," asked Patty as she scanned the crowd for the pinked-hair boy.

"I tried to convince him to come, but he stayed home," said Soul, shrugging.

"Sounds like our Crona," said Liz with a lazy roll of the eyes.

"Yahoo!" shouted an all too familiar voice. Turning their heads toward the owner, they spotted the assassin and his weapon partner heading their way. Like Soul, Black*Star wore a black suit, a shade lighter than his, but his outfit was sloppy. His wrinkled, white undershirt was untucked, his jacket wasn't button, and the tie wasn't put on properly.

Unlike her meister, Tsubaki wore a nice, lime green dress that complimented her figure. Silver slippers were on her feet while a small, pearl necklace warped around her neck. Her hair was done up so part of it was bundled into a bun while a few strands framed her face.

"I'm ready to stuff my face," shouted Black*Star as the two neared the group.

Sighing, Tsubaki said, "Hey guys. I see that Crona isn't coming." To Clair personally, she smiled and said, "Hello, you must be Soul's date." Sticking a hand out, she added, "I think we seen each other before, but never formally meet."

After a quick exchange of shaking hands and introductions, Kid said, "This is nice and all, but I must head inside. Father would like me to say a few words before things get started." With that said their small group headed indoors.

As they entered the school a girl staggered onto the courtyard. She tried to walk toward the entrance without running into someone, but she accidentally bump into a student. "Watch where you going!" exclaimed the boy. Turning to face the offender, whatever he intended to do stopped the moment he saw her.

About his age she was dressed up for the occasion. A black, shoulder less dress that showed a little cleavage hung loosely from her skinny frame. Thin legs were covered by stocking and her feet were in flat, black slippers. Ash blonde hair was done up in two, curly pig tails that protrude from the sides. However, what got his attention was the single, ragged, black cloth covering her eyes.

Turning her head in the general direction of the outburst, she timidly said, "I'm so sorry. My soul perception should have spotted you." Though he couldn't see her eyes, her facial expression and tone of voice told that she was both apologetic and frighten.

"No, it was my fault," he said. To amend his wrong, he asked, "Do you need help getting where you're going?"

"I'll be fine," she replied as she turned to leave. "Once I'm through the doors it shouldn't be too hard to find the right place."

Grabbing her by the arm, he said, "Look, I am heading in the same direction. It won't be a hassle at all." The girl flinched as his hand touched her, but she did stop. "Do you even know where the tower is?" After a short lived silence she shook her head. "Hold me by the arm and we'll be there in a few minutes." Hesitating, she slowly nodded. The boy than guided her arm so it looped around his own. "Tell me if I am going to fast," he said as they walked forward.

True to his word the boy lead her to the right place. Even without her second sight all the noises and smells confirmed that they were at a party. The boy release her arm as he said, "Here we are. If you need anything else just shout out for an Ox."

"That ever so generous of you, but I should be able to help myself from here." Darting into the crowd, a small smile crossed her face._ Tonight is going to be a fun night._

Unknowingly to her, Ox watched her until she disappeared from sight. For a moment he thought he heard a deep, dark chuckle coming from somewhere nearby. Shoving his way forward, he didn't found whoever chuckled. He also lost the girl, but he knew if he actually tried he could find her easily. With that in mind he wandered off in search of his friends.

The room which the party was being hosted in was large and rectangular. Large enough to hold the entire school body, plus stuff, the polish stone walls and floors provided a perfect place to mingle. On one side of the room was a short stage flanked by huge, red curtains. Another platform on the other side of the room contained a jazz band that was waiting for their cue to begin playing. Out on the floor was a couple long tables connected together at the ends. On them was a variety of dishes for whatever taste a person desired, which for now remained untouched.

Everyone was ready to party, but they waited for Lord Death to give his annual speech before truly getting started. Chatting among themselves, they hushed up when the reaper accompanied by his son appeared on stage. Clearing his throat, Kid called out, "Excuse me, but it is time for my Father, Lord Death, to speak."

The ancient entity stared over the crowd, his mask given nothing away. "Hi ya everybody," he said in a cheerful tone. "It's nice to see all of you here tonight. I like to thank everyone for the hard work they done and I'm looking forward to another great year." When he said nothing more Kid let loose a sigh.

"Figure Father would treat this so casually." Turning to the crowd, he tighten his bow tie as he said, "I like to formally welcome all of you here tonight. As you all know we are gathered here to celebrate the finding of our benevolent school. Tonight..."

"Hey everybody," shouted Black*Star who was clinging to a nearby curtain. "It's me the amazing Black*Star."

Ignoring the egoist the best he could, Kid continue. "As I was saying, tonight we are..."

"I, the amazing Black*Star, demanded that you all basked in my glory," shout the assassin as he waved an arm.

Through clench teeth, the young reaper said, "Tonight we will honor..."

"Come before me and bow to the mightiness of the amazing Black*Star."

Rounding on the assassin, Kid shouted, "Would you shouted up!?"

"Yeah right, like the..." Reaching up and grabbing him by the leg, the young reaper yanked the assassin down from his perched. Angered at being interrupted the egoist turned his fists onto the reaper. "Hey! Who do you think you are!?"

Not the one to take a hit without delivering back Kid fought back. "Who do I think I am!?" shouted Kid, "Don't you have any respect once so ever?" Soon enough the two were in an all-out brawl. For several minutes they duke it out until Soul and Liz went up and pull them apart.

Face mutilated the assassin walked away with his back slouch. "Stupid Kid, stealing my spotlight," he grumbled.

Hand on his shoulder, Soul asked, "You do know this isn't your party?"

As Liz lead a slightly less mutilated reaper away from the stage Death stepped forward. "Well than, let start the music, grabbed a plate of food, and get this party going!"

The crowd cheered their agreement. Taking that as their cue, the jazz band began to play their songs. People started to intermingle with each other. Some idly chatted while others took to the dance floor. Soul and his date stood a little apart from the crowd, communicating with words and soul wavelength. Appetite undented by the beating he took, Black*Star went straight to the buffet tables. In no time he ate through a half of dozen plates full of food; his partner stood nearby, shaking her head. Kid was doing the can-can with his partners and shouting, "Come on girls. Kick these legs up high and keep with the tempo." This little display drew a crowd and Liz couldn't help but commenting on how embarrassing this was. As always Patty was having too much fun to care in the least.

Somewhere off in the crowd Spirit was doing his best to charm the entire women portion of the school staff. His antics were greeted with a mix of flatter and pain. From the sideline Stein casually watched the death scythe as he talked with Sid while sipping on a glass of champagne. Though neither Spirit nor Stein bother to dress up, the zombie wore tacky pants along with a plaid, buttoned up shirt. Standing not too far away, Nygus, wearing a bright blue dress and bandages removed, was minding her own business. Once or twice another male teacher went up to her to ask for a dance, but was coldly turned away.

Blissfully unaware of the invader among them, the blind girl carefully navigated her way through the crowd. In reality, she could see perfectly fine. The world may look like a black backdrop with people and objects defined by white lines, but the absent of color did nothing to hamper her ability to see.

This doesn't mean she could just move about the crowd with ease. She was supposed to be blind with only minimal detail to help her out. However, it was hard to keep the act going with so many people about. It was if she was a little child in a candy shop- so much to see, to smell, to hear, and to say. At the same time she actually felt a bit shy, maybe even bashful. This was the first time she been in crowd without meaning to cause harm. She wasn't exactly sure what to do.

"Rebecca," whispered Ragnarok for her to hear only, "go over to the buffet table before the blue hair pig eats all the food."

"Why?" she muttered back, "you can't come out without being exposed?"

"Just go over there."

Seeing nothing better to do, she strolled toward the tables. As she went she could feel the eyes glancing in her direction. Unless the one person she somewhat hope was here – her soul perception didn't pick him up so she doubted it- or one of the other three recognized her. It didn't matter if stares lingered. It did stir up a little adrenaline at the thought of being caught.

_Little sheep, don't you see the wolf among you?_ she mocked, but knew better. These sheep were wolves like her and it was best not to draw attention, especially the alpha of the pack. She knew that the man called Lord Death was in the crowd, but for some reason she couldn't see his soul. That was strange for all living things had souls. Even the zombie had an undead soul so there must be a reason that she couldn't see his.

Bumping into the table, she tilled her head down to get a better look of the food. Being a child who was continuously starved, the sight of the smorgasbord caused her to drool. Wiping the saliva away from the corner of her mouth, she pretended to feel the table until she found a plate and fork. Then she piled the food high, not stopping until there was a stack threatening to spill over. She walked over to the nearby wall to get out of the way and experimentally tasted the varied of food.

Across the room Soul was saying to his date, "Hard to believe that we travel all the way to Vegas to see this band to found out that the tickets we brought were faked. Man, I was piss, but Black*Star looked ready to rip the guy guarding the entrance balls off."

Brushing her hand against his, she said, _I somehow doubt you two left quietly._

Shrugging, he said, "I would have. Life sometime is a bitch and we just took the junk she threw at us, but Black*Star wasn't leaving without seeing that band." A small smile formed as he said, "So he decided we could sneak in by scaling the club's wall. At first I thought he was kidding, but soon he was carrying me by the collar of my jacket as he scaled the building one handedly." Hearing the chuckle, he asked, "What's so funny?"

_I'm seeing an image of you being hauled up a side of a building by a large, blue monkey. Don't ask me why. All I know that your friend has always reminded me of a monkey._

Chuckling, he replied, "Okay that would be a sight to see. At the moment he is more of a hog than a monkey."

Glancing over to the assassin, the girl saw what he meant. _So did you guys get to see the band?_

"Lucky for us, it would seem that our little stunt wasn't the craziest ever done in that city. We managed to get to the roof and found a way in. We than went into the rafter and got a good spot over the band. We stayed there the entire time without anyone noticing us. Once the show was over we followed the crowd out onto the streets. We may have to race back home before school started the next day, but it was worth it."

_It does sound like fun._

"That wasn't even the craziest thing I ever done. Not so long ago I was..." His voice trailed off as his eyes caught sight of the girl at the opposite side of the room. Noticing the sudden change of mood, the mute turned her head in the direction he was staring at. It took her all of a second to see that he was staring at another girl. Not in the attractive way, but in the way of being reminded of foul memories.

_Do you know her?_

Jerked out of his trance Soul forced a nonchalant smile. "No, never seen her in my life." This wasn't exactly a lie. Though the girl seemed frighteningly familiar, there was no way that she could be the kishin from Mexico. That kishin was hyperactive, volatile manic. The girl eating away at a plate full of food was shy, quiet, and aloof. She probably was a new student getting comfortable to her new surroundings.

_Go over to her and say hi. _Cocking an eyebrow at the mute, she might as well have said go kiss the stranger. Smiling, she said,_ Don't worry about me. I got a couple of friends around here who could keep me busy for a few minutes. _With that said she walked off into the crowd, leaving the albino confounded.

"Okay," he said to no one in particular before walking toward the buffet tables.

Up until now, Rebecca had devoured every scrape of food she gotten. Though some of it she rather not eats if given the choice, most of the food was edible. That was before she came upon a piece of red meat at the bottom of the pile. The moment it glazed her tongue she spit it out. Staring at it in disguise, she said out loud, "What is this?"

"Raw fish," said a familiar voice, "if you don't want it I'll eat it."

_Oh crap!_ she thought as muscles tense up. Tilling her head up, she spotted one of the few people she hoped wouldn't notice her. "You like raw fish?" she innocently asked, voice trembling.

"Yeah," Soul replied, shrugging, but he doubted that she could see it.

Without saying a word she held the plate out to him. Taking it, he went over to the table to get a new fork. "Fuck our luck," said Ragnarok, "of all the guys that have to come up to you it have to be him."

"Do you think he knows?"

"If he did we would have an army of meisters on top of us by now. No, he might suspect us, but for the time being he is doubtful. Keep the act up until Medusa calls us." Nodding her head, she quickly returned her attention back on the albino as he walked back over.

With the fork he lifted the fish to his mouth. His teeth make his liking of the raw meat seem more reasonable. "Never seen you around here before," said Soul.

"Transfer student who recently managed to get into the academy," she said, repeating a well rehearsed lie.

Smiling, Soul said, "Let me be the first to welcome you to our school. How long have you been here?"

"A few days."

"Then I take it that you don't have a partner yet."

"No, but I do have someone in mind." A small blush formed as she asked, "Are you offering?"

"Sorry, I would love to but I'm already paired up. My meister may not always be friendliest guy, but we do work well together." For some reason the girl felt a surge of jealousy. It may have been the genuine respect he spoke of his meister that got to her. She couldn't recall a time where her partner showed the same respect.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll find your partner either this week or the next." Not knowing she had a slight frown on, she quickly replaced it with a sheepish grin.

"So where is your meister? I would like to meet him."

"He's a no show, but I'm sure one of my friends would be more than happy to meet you." Placing his empty plate down, he grabbed the girl by the wrist and dragged her forward.

She wanted to protest and rip her wrist free from his grip, but a voice startled her first. _Maka, _said Medusa in that unpleasant monotonic tone. _We're almost in position. How are things on your end?_

_Bad timing Mom,_ she angrily thought. _As for the question, everything is going well. Death is still in the room along with the rest of his lackeys. I also had been using my soul perception to search for the kishin's burial site. There's something strange in the school's basement. Not sure what it is, but it could be what we're looking for._

_Death didn't want to take any chances did he?_ the witch mused. _Keep on doing what you're doing. When the time comes to leave I'll tell you._

Something snapped right beside her ear. Swathing it away, her attention returned to the world around her. Patty had been snapping her fingers to awake the zoned out girl. "Are you home yet," she asked as she tilled her head.

"Sorry," said Rebecca, "I didn't mean to ignore you."

"No biggie," said the blonde with a smile, "I have ignored a lot of people because I was too busy with something else."

"Patty," said Kid, who walked up from behind, "do not intimidate her. She probably having a hard time adjusting as it is."

Glancing between the two, she asked, "Who's the weapon and who's the meister?"

"Kid is the meister," said Soul, gesturing to the reaper. He had long ago let go of her wrist. "He's one of the most powerful meister around and Lord Death's son."

Kid said, "Nice to meet you..."

"Rebecca," she said, eyes darting at the albino to see if he'll caught on. Not yet he hasn't.

A sincere smile graced his face as the reaper said, "That's a nice name. So I heard that you're a meister- quiet impressive considering that you are blind." The albino shot the reaper a quick glare. Taking no notice of it, he said, "Is the blindness natural or accidental."

"Crippled since birth – doctor said my eyes told the truth as soon as they opened. Only reason I'm able to be somewhat independent is because of my soul perception. It hasn't always been that usefully, but it is better than nothing."

"Well, I'm certain that you'll find a way to improve that second sight." Looking her over, he added, "Nice dress, it's perfectly symmetrical."

"... Thanks."

Spirit has given up, for the time being, on charming the ladies. Walking over to Stein, a hand rubbed his aching head. Every time it went over a bump he cringed. "Hey Stein," he said, "What have you doing?"

"Interacting with my peers," said the professor without looking at the death scythe. "Had any luck with the opposite sex?" He already knew the answer. He just wanted to put his old friend on the spot.

"These women get more sensitive by the year."

"I haven't seen you go after Nygus yet," said Sid, not wanting to be left out of the conversion.

Looking at the zombie like he was crazy, the death scythe said, "She no queen of ice, but she almost as bad. I'll probably get a boot in an uncomfortable area for even saying hi to her." That brought up a few chuckles. As his two colleagues laugh it up he turned his attention onto the students. "How either of you seen Crona? I saw Soul early, but he was with some girl." Getting what summed up as a no, the death scythe sighed. "These events were never his favorite thing to do."

"Spirit," said Stein, "you said that Soul came here with a girl."

"Yeah, a brunette wearing a yellow dress and doesn't talk. What of it?"

"The girl he was with is one of my students. However, I never seen her before." Cocking an eyebrow in confusion, the death scythe stared at him. "Turn around and adjust your head at a forty-five degree angle." Spirit did as he was told.

"Wrong girl," he said slowly. "I have no idea where she came from. Sid, have you seen her before?"

"I'm not sure," he confessed. Turning his head, he shouted to his weapon partner, "Nygus, come over here for a moment." A teacher was holding a conversion with the weapon. She wasn't exactly being rude, but when her partner called she hastily dismissed herself. "See that girl over there by Soul. Something about her seems familiar, but I can't place my finger on it."

After a few seconds of quiet examination, she said, "I need a closer look, but I believe I have seen her recently."

Spirit kept on staring at the girl, mentally replacing some of her features to see if they would rattle a memory loose. His mind conjured up an image he seen not so long ago. Biting down on his lower lip, he overlapped that image with what his eyes saw. "I got to go," he said suddenly as he rushed off into the crowd. His three companies didn't move to stop him. Since his next quarry can walk by at any moment it wasn't at all surprising that he darted off.

"Hope you enjoy the rest of your evening," said Kid as Soul and Rebecca walked off.

Once they were out of his hearing range, the girl said, "He is an interesting person."

"Trust me when I say he won't be the last," said Soul with a chuckle. "Our school is not typical at all. One of the teachers is a zombie."

Eyes opened in feign shook. Skeptically, she said, "Does it bring brains in for lunch?"

"I'm serious. Sid, the zombie, was brought back to life by Professor Stein. Just a head up, Stein is a bit strange." As an afterthought, he asked, "Do you mind dissecting animals?" Getting a shake of the head, he said, "Except a lot of it if you get put in Silver Moon class." Accidentally bumping into someone, the girl quickly apologized to the person. "Would you like it if we go somewhere that is less crowded?"

"Yes, but what do you have in mind?"

"There're several balconies that nobody using."

After a brief moment of thinking, she said, "Okay. Lead the way."

Several minutes later they were out of the pleasant temperate room into the chilly air of the night. The rounded balcony gave a great view of the city below. Overhead the moon was crackling away as if it knew a funny joke which no one else was aware of. Due to the city lights the stars were far and few, but the lights made a beautiful sight to see if one were able to look upon it.

Elbows leaning against the rails and back reclined, Soul watched the girl as she took in her surroundings. "It smells nice out here," she said. In the back of her mind she was wondering what the hell they were doing. Her experience with people in general was mediocre, but even she had a vague idea about relationships between boys and girls. Last thing she wanted was do anything intimate with the albino.

"It's a beautiful night," he said as he gazed up at the skies. "Were nights in your last home as nice as this?"  
>The girl had to pause for a moment to come up with a reasonable answer. "My family moved around a lot so the nights had been different in each place I stayed. I think most of the time they were fine. However, they weren't as dry as it is out here."<p>

"Out of curiosity what's with the piece of cloth?" Humming, Rebecca shrugged. "I know you're blind, but what with the attempt of hiding it. Not like it makes much of a difference."

Giggling into a hand, she said, "It's for the best that my eyes are covered. People are freaked out whenever they see them."

"Why?"

"I can't really explain it."

"Then show me," he said as he stood up. Walking up to her, he said, "If it doesn't bother you I would like to see for myself." She cupped her chin in a hand and her mouth was set in a straight line. Without her eyes it was hard to tell what she was thinking.

"Promise not to think of me as a freak," she said at last as her hand went down.

"How bad can it be," he said. He got no reply. "Want me to take it off?" A slight nod was all he needed. Reaching around her head, he grabbed the knot and started to untie it. As he did this the girl remained complete still. Took a little fumbling, but he soon had both ends of the cloth pull apart. Pulling the cloth away, he nearly dropped it from shock as he jumped back.

Two unfocused, coal black eyes stared off in the distance. No trace of a pupil or iris to be seen. "Want to leave," she said, sounding depress.

"No," he said quickly.

"I won't be offended if you do. People are usually afraid of me." _People are scare of me, but my eyes aren't the reason,_ she bitterly thought.

"They're nothing to be afraid of," Soul responded, sounding more confident. Glancing to the cloth, he said, "Sure your eyes are freaky, but that doesn't mean anything. Let put the blindfold on and forget this ever happened." Was he being kind to her? Wrapping the cloth back in place, he didn't hurry as he made sure the knot was secure.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"No problem," said Soul, smiling. "Now let go back inside and get back to the party."

Though the girl smiled sincerely on the outside, deep in her mind she was trying to understand this kindness. _No one can be this generous. Not without asking for something in return. If he knew who I truly was would he even bother to talk to me? Doubt it, but I'm also a complete stranger. Why in the world help me at all if he doesn't get something in return? _

"I don't want to go inside yet," she said as she walked forward. Soul quickly got out of the way, but watched the girl as she neared the railing. Putting her hands out, she kept on walking until they hit the rails. Leaning on the wood, she stared out onto the city. It was still a reasonable hour to be up and many of the houses were lit up along with the street lights. People were out on the streets, looking like insects from where she stood.

_Kishin,_ she mused, _are monsters that devour human souls without care. _Her grip tightened as her body quake from a silent angry that was building up. _They are beings who don't deserve kindness. Mom might be right about that. Why does a monster like me need love when all I need is power? With it I can do anything._

Soul stood there confused by the girl's actions. How could he understand the raw emotions that his small signs of affection along with others affected her? To him these simple gestures were everyday manners he was taught from birth. To a girl who was neglected all her life it was like seeing the sun for the first time and couldn't decide if this new discovery was an abnormality or a gift. Coming up behind her, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Snapped- no better way to describe it. All night people have been touching her, but she was able to ignore it before. This time, however, his touch was completely foreign and unsettling to her. With so much anger built up she did the only thing that felt natural.

On the ball of her heel she spun around, throwing the hand off. A foot on its own will strike out. Poor Soul didn't have the chance to move out of the way. The foot made full contact with his nether region. This would hurt no matter who was kicking him. However, the one person in the world with a punch made of lead had a kick that did as much damage.

"Keep your fucking hands to yourself Blood Eyes," she shrieked. Glaring at the boy, she smiled at the pain she inflicted. Rocking on the ground, Soul's hands covered his crotch while tears poured from the eyes. Surprisingly, there was no blood. If she were to kick him again in a different spot she doubted he would have notice. In fact, she was tempted to do so.

It took her a moment to realize that the music had stop. Looking up, she found that quite literally the entire party have stop to see what they were doing. Those nearest to the balcony were shocked at what they saw. Male students had taken advantage of the girls before- sometime they get the same treatment- but the attack in their eyes seemed unjustified.

Putting on an innocent smile, Rebecca said, "Sorry about that. I just don't like it when people touch me."

"Drop the act," groaned Soul as he struggled to his feet. "You're not fooling me."

"Whatever do you mean," she said in the timid voice, but that cocky, almost crazed smile betrayed her true thoughts.

Huffing, Soul was bent over at the waist, hands on knees, and couldn't straighten up any farther without intensifying the pain. Didn't mean he would let that pain cloud his thoughts. Face in a neutral expression, he said, "I'll admit that was impressing. You had me till the part you called me Blood Eyes."

"Oh please," she said, waving a bashful hand at him as she looked off to the side, "that wasn't even my best work."

"Stop being so naïve. It is starting to get sickening."

_We are in position,_ Medusa noted. _You got a couple of minutes to get out of there before we start the spell._

Giggling, Maka said as a dangerous spark gleam in her eyes, "That more time than I need." Didn't take a genius to understand what she just said was a bad sign. Ignoring the pain, Soul turned his arm into a blade and flung himself at her, screaming. A gloved fist shot out from between her breast, slamming hard into the albino's chin. He flew backward and landed hard onto the ground of the ballroom.

"Soul!" shouted his friends who were among those watching. Excited chattered raced through the crowd while said friends plus date rushed over to him.

"That got to hurt," commented Maka.

"Let get out of here," said Ragnarok, arm still prodding from his meister's chest. "Won't take them long to remember we're here."

"I agree."

In a louder voice to draw attention, she shouted, "Well, my first time at a party had been grand. Food was great and the people here are easy to get along with. However, Mom needs me for a project so I must be going." The arm liquefied and fell to the floor with a splat. Then the black blood formed a thin, solid line in front of the girl. "Just to make sure none of you follow- bloody needles." Spikes of harden blood shoot out at an angle, lodging themselves into the different points of the entrance, blocking the way to her.

Gaps between the needles allowed the students to watch the girl step onto the railing. Wings sprouted from her back as she cheerfully said, "Enjoy your last night of sanity." She jumped, but didn't fell far before the wings started flapping.

"Soul," said Kid as the group, Stein, Nygus, and Sid surrounded him. "Are you alright?"

Groaning, the albino with the help of Clair stood up. Looking to his bladed arm, it morphed back into flesh. "It feels as if one of my balls have burst and my jaw been hit by a sledge hammer. Other than that I'm fine, but don't worry about me. You guys got to go after her."

"Too late," said Stein as he looked at the surrounding area.

A ghostly green glow encased the walls and sealed off all exits. A small tremor shook the floor. Students looked all about them, trying to figure out what going on as Lord Death calmly looked on. "We're being trap within a cube," he said out loud. "I wonder who got the magic to pull this off."

* * *

><p>Maka didn't travel too far. Circling the tower, which she just left, in a wide radius she spotted the three magical beings. Medusa was standing on top of a huge snake's head, hovering in the air. Free and Eruka were standing on the tips of two, smaller towers parallel to the taller tower. Strapped to Eruka's back was a gray suitcase which Maka haven't seen till tonight. "They're ready for whatever you plan on doing," the demon swordswoman shouted to the three.<p>

Nodding her head, Medusa shouted to her lackey, "Eruka!"

"On it," she exclaimed as she raised her hands over head. Medusa also bent her arms in an awkward position and the two shouted together, "Arithmetic Magic: Magic Calculation."

Free calmly watch them, knowing that their smaller spells prepare the way for his magic. Placing his arms perpendicular to his sides, he shouted out, "Spatial Magic: Independent Cube!" The symbol in his magic eye expanded. A cube covered in markings shaped as eyes engulfed his torso as two smaller cubes formed around his hands. A huge cube surrounded the part of the tower which the party was held. A large keyhole formed in one of its sides. Several yards away from the keyhole a large, green key with the same eye markings all over it materialized. The key moved forward to lock the meisters, weapons, and reaper inside.

* * *

><p>"Nygus," exclaimed Sid. Without word the mummy transformed into weapon form. Grabbing the knife, the zombie looked to the meisters and weapons nearest to him. That would be Soul, his friends, and Professor Stein. If he had the time he would allow Lord Death to escape, but he was nowhere in sight.<p>

Feeding his soul wavelength to his partner, their souls became sync. The blade glow a bright white as it transform into a gravestone. Wasting no time, he shouted, "Force Burial!" Slamming the base into the ground, seven rectangular, stone coffins shot out of the earth. Clair was forced away from her date as he, his friends, and the professor were pushed into the coffins. Needless to say, all seven individuals screamed as they fell into the graves which turned out to be long tunnels.

"Good luck," the zombie called out to them as the graves closed shut. He glance about to see if he could perform the move once more. However, a clinking noise from somewhere outside told him it wouldn't be done. They were trap within the tower, ensuring whoever done this left them powerless to interfere.

* * *

><p>The key slid into place and turned ninety degrees clockwise. A booming click told that it was lock. "That should do it," said Free as the key and the cubes around his body faded away. Putting his arms down, he looked to his companions. "We got an hour before the spell wear off."<p>

"Cool," shouted Maka, hovering in place "no reapers or meisters means we got the city all to ourselves. Ragnarok, let see how many places we can razed within an hour."

"Sorry dear," said Medusa as she looked to the horizon. "You are needed to show us where the kishin is kept. I have given the task of causing havoc to someone else." Spotting five blazing lights, she added, "Here they come now."

Five, small, child-like witches clad in board white and black stripped clocks propelled themselves toward the school by some explosive power for flames flew from the bottom of their clocks. On their heads black hats were fashioned to look like the faces of mice- cloth was shaped into two rounded ears and eyes while the tips has a round nose. Little could be seen of their bodies or their faces, but what could be seen looked to be the same. Narrow closed eyes, bucked teeth, and pink hair that frame their face suggested that the five were sisters.

"Mizune," Eruka shouted cheerfully, bouncing while waving a hand to get their attention. They flew by her tower to show that they acknowledge their dead sister good friend. The cheer quickly disappeared as the frog witch remembered that they were here because they thought Lord Death was responsible for their kin death. Truth was that Medusa slain her, but she had little choice but to lie. "I'm sorry," she whispered remorsefully.

Like a trained air squad the five lined themselves up parallel to the other. From their checks three pink whiskers extended out. Going into a semi-roll, they flew on by one of the giant candles sticking out of the school. The whiskers grew in length and slice clean through the wax. As the candle tumble to the ground they turned their fury onto the city itself.

"We better get moving," said Medusa. "Maka, lead the way." Nodding, the girl flew toward the main part of the school. Free leapt from his place while Eruka summoned a huge tadpole to ride on. Medusa was soon behind her daughter as well and the four descend downward. All four of them felt a rush at the thought of coming so close to accomplish their goal. Respectfully, a smirk, an insane smile, a toothy grin, and a sly smile appeared on their faces.

Let the madness commence.

* * *

><p>Mulleb: So what do you guys think? I somewhat dreaded rewriting a canon episode for I want it to be different and interesting. However, I think I did a decent job at less.<p>

Sistine: Could be worst. You could be one of those people who writing so closely relative to the canon that its get boring real quick.

Mulleb: True, but we let the readers decide. Just out of curiosity who been waiting for more crazy Maka and sane Crona interaction. *Both Sistine and Mulleb hands went up.* I'll be first to say I been dieing to wrote about them, but the damn story plot got in the way.

Sistine: Well, we waited this long. A little more time won't hurt anyone. As always we want to hear your thoughts so please review. Good criticism, flames, and comments are welcome.


	18. Chapter 17

Maka: *To Crona* This is going to be strange.

Crona: Yeah, this would be like the real thing except we're in reverse positions.

Mulleb: There more to this chapter than that, but this chapter in general is going to be interesting. Things that are cannon are base on memory and those that are off the top of my head. Then I got to mix the two so that they don't conflict the story line. Hopeful, everything will turn out alright.

Maka: Same here. I doubt that anyone want a carbon copy.

Mulleb: It's not, but with that said. I hope the readers enjoy the story.

* * *

><p>Chapter Seventeen<p>

Strolling down a street, Crona and Blair were heading to the market place. The pinked-hair boy's show ended a few minutes earlier and two rumbling stomachs got them out of the house. "Along with the tuna casserole can we have some salmon," asked the cat. The meister let silence answer her question. Sighing, she turned her gaze on the night sky.

Clear of any clouds the laughing moon, blood pouring from its teeth, dominated the sky. She had always found the moon fascinating, but thought it was creepy when it was laughing like that. Putting the celestial object aside, it was a beautiful night. A bit nippy temperature wise; other than that tonight was a good night to take a walk.

Due to the fact that the school was on top of a tall hill it almost impossible to miss when one is looking in the right direction. The sight of it reminded her of the party she wasn't allowed to go to. However, she shoved the thoughts away and tried to focus on the sky around it. Spotting something odd with one of the towers, she looked directly at it. She came to an immediate stop, paralyzed by what she sees.

Crona walked several more feet before noticing his company wasn't by his side. Glancing back, he shouted, "Is something wrong Blair?" Her shock expression and slow reaction got him worried. Lifting a paw, she pointed in the direction of the school. This confused him until he took a look at what she was pointing at. "What the..." he muttered as his eyes widen.

Surrounding the tallest tower of the school was a lime green cube. "Magic," he said out loud, stating the obvious. The cat could only manage a simple nod. It took them a moment to remember that the party was being hosted in that tower. "Soul and the others are in there," he shouted as he dashed forth. Blair was quick to follow, but they didn't get far.

Spotting about a half of dozen rapidly moving dots in the sky, Crona came to a skidding halt and grabbed the cat by the skin of her neck. She yelped as she was yanked off the ground, but a hand move to muffle the sound. After a quick scan of the area the boy ducked into an alley. Slamming his back against the wall, he stayed there with Blair pressed up against his chest.

Soon enough the dots zoom on by. "Witches," he hissed. "Would it be far fetch to assume that cube is their work?" A small, but piercing pain shot through his hand. Not at all happy at being manhandled the cat wanted down. "Sorry," he said as he set her on the ground.

"Warn me before doing that," said the cat as she started to lick her ruffled fur.

Nodding, the boy peered around the corner to stare at the school. He hated the fact that he was planning on running to it instead of going after the witches. But what could he do? Without his weapon partner he was powerless. Glancing to the cat, he said out loud, "But you're not."

Cleaning herself with her tongue, the cat was oblivious to the boy's thoughts. "Hm," she said.

"Blair, I need you to stop those witches. Prevent them from harming the city or the civilians."

"Those mice are going to regard missing with our town," said Blair with a predatory smile.

"While you do that I'll head to the school. I'm not sure what that cube is, if Soul and the others are in it, or there is anything I could do about it, but I got to do something." With that said Crona dashed out of the alley and sprinted toward the school.

Blair waved a paw in farewell, shouting, "Alright than; I will go take care of the rodents." Glancing in the direction of the market place, she added, "But first there is fish to be eaten. I can't fight on an empty stomach." Sauntering, she headed to her favorite place in town all the while humming a catchy tune.

On the other side of town a meister and her weapon were strolling through the streets for a different reason. "The poetry tonight was dreadful," said Alice, saying dreadful in a positive manner. Shrugging her shoulders, Jane literally dragged her meister by the wrist toward the school. Clad in a plain, clay red dress, she couldn't have care less for the poetry. Only reason she accompanied her partner to the tea shop for a half hour long session of morose writing was to full fill her part of the bargain. Now, it was her meister turn to go though something she could care less about.

Don in her normal clothing Alice was making some sort of statement. Whatever it was at less she could make it in a social environment which doesn't revolve around death and agony. "I have heard better," she said, giving her honest opinion.

A loud caw overhead got the weapon to sigh. "Didn't I tell you to leave him at home?"

"Yes," said Alice, "and he disobeyed me."

Glancing over her shoulder, the weapon gave her meister a questioning look. Hardly, if ever have Poe went against a direct order. Fluttering down onto Alice's shoulder, the raven looked between the two to see he it gotten their attention. Before Alice could say anything, the bird took flight. His chosen path overlapped the view of the school tallest tower.

"That can't be good," said Alice as the two stared at the cube.

"I choice the wrong day to wear high heels," said the weapon with a chuckle. Glancing to her meister, she mockingly asked, "Do you want to head home? We could always say we were sick when the attacked happen."

"Yeah right," said the girl as a sadistic smile crept onto her face. "Someone is attacking our city. Lord Death won't mind if we did some damage to the idiots." With that said the girls run toward the school, following the raven's lead.

Ox stared at the green wall in front of him. In hands, a yellow spear with a lighting shape spearhead was posed to strike. With a mighty roar, he shouted, "Royal Thunder!" He jabbed the spear into the wall... Nothing happened. Bowing his head in defeat, the meister said, "We're not getting out this way."

Among the crowd Lord Death stood there, watching the students' behavior. Rushing over to the reaper with a large mirror, Kilk said, "Lord Death, I have found this mirror. You could use this to escape." For a second the reaper stared at the black boy before looking the room over once more.

"Sorry kid, but it won't work. We're trapped in a separate dimension. Everything in here is cut off from the outside world. I could jump into that mirror, but since that the only mirror in this dimension. There would be nowhere to go."

Letting go of the mirror, Kilk fell onto his butt and threw the cap he was wearing onto the floor. "Damn it," he shouted, dismay all over his face. "We grown so use to peace we allowed this to happen."

Bending over to pick the cap up, Lord Death placed it back on the teen's head. Confused, Kilk looked up at the reaper. "Hey there," said the reaper, "there is nothing wrong with being use to peace. If we're use to peace than that mean we're doing our job right. Take pride of it rather than being ashamed."

"Lord Death," said a person behind him. Turning to the person, the reaper found Treou with his weapon partner at his side. "I'm just curious about something. My weapon partner overheard the demon swordsman just before she escape. She said something about enjoying our last night of sanity. Do you have any idea what that meant?"

For a moment Lord Death just stared at the meister not sure if he should reveal his fears to him. "Sir," said Sid as he came from behind, "due to the situation I think it is best to tell them the truth."

Nodding in agreement, Lord Death cupped his large hands together and shouted through them, "Hey everybody, there is a kishin buried beneath the school." Perplexed, the crowd stared at him not certain on how to respond.

"Sir," said Sid, "I think you should go into detail."

"Please do," said Treou, "because I thought the kishin was defeated thousands of years ago."

"He was," Lord Death stated calmly as he put his hands away, "but there more to it than that." To Kilk, he asked, "What is the purpose of this school?"

A little baffled at the question, he gave the answer that been beaten into him since day one. "To prevent kishin eggs from become a Kishin and keeping the world from plunging into madness."

"Correct," chirped the reaper, "but does anyone know who the first Kishin was." Silence followed for only a select few knew. "Well, as you all know the world was a different place a thousand years ago. Chaos spread like a disease, my father had recently died, and the witches were causing havoc like there was no tomorrow. Being a reaper I would not allow the chaos to continue. I gather around me a group of powerful warriors- you may know them as the Eight Powerful Warriors- tasked with the duty of defending peace and order."

"Now each warrior was extremely powerful, but out of the eight a meister name Asura was the strongest of them all- his might second only to my. During this time was when the conflict with the witches really started up. Back then they were known as the Witches of the East. Sending several of the warriors to deal with them, I expected the witches to be defeated. However, when they got there Asura had already killed them all."

"This Asura guy sounded like a powerhouse," said one of the students.

"He was," said Lord Death with a hint of pride, "but for some odd reason he was always afraid. Of what I'm not certain- all I know that he was always plagued by this fear. To help counter it he liked to wear layers of baggie clothing and long scarves, but this wasn't enough. One day his fear drove him to break one the most sacred rules we have. He started consuming the souls of innocent humans. When that wasn't enough he ate his own weapon partner in his weapon form." Hearing a man who could eat human soul must less their weapon partner shocked many of the students.

"But sir," said Kilk, "only weapons can eat souls. How was Asura able to eat them?"

After a brief pause, the reaper said, "Thinking about now, I don't think Asura was ever truly human. Just a bundle of paranoid wrapped up in flesh and clothing. Well, as some you might have guess he ate enough innocent souls that he became the first Kishin. I had no chose but to fought and, in the end, defeat him. However, instead of killing him I had him imprisoned."

"And you think it is possible that whoever trapped us in here is looking to free the Kishin," said Treou, disbelief lacing his voice.

"Afraid so," said the reaper without a trace of concern, "but there no need to worry. Sid here allowed several of our best meister and weapons to escape. I'm more than certain that they will stop whoever is doing this. All we need to do is stay here and wait for this magic to wear off." Glad for the reassurance the students and staff hunkered down to wait out the spell. The zombie on the other hand wasn't as convince. Stein was indeed the most powerful meister around, but the kids, even if they were some of most powerful in the school, were going to have some trouble.

"They're our only hope," he muttered to himself, not certain how he felt about it.

"Awwww," screamed the gang as they fell. After falling for some time they finally found the end of the tunnel. Coming out into a hallway, meisters landed on their feet while the weapons fall flat on their back or stomachs. As the weapons groaned the meister observed the strange phenomenon. "Interesting," said Kid, "all the meister landed on their feet while the weapons didn't. Look like we are different after all."

"Nice to know," said Soul as he got to his feet, "putting the discovery aside, we need to get moving. Whoever tried to trap us are doing god knows what?

"He's right," said Stein as he turned on his second sight. For a few seconds he zoned out. "I'm afraid we're in for a treat tonight," he said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Along with the demon swordswoman there are two witches, a powerful human, and a mix soul in the basement. Their heading for..." He quieted up real quick when he figured out the invaders' target.

"I take that as a bad sign," said Liz as she relined her spine.

"We better get going," said Stein as he started to walk off, "I'll explain while we get there. Soul, since your meister isn't here you'll partner up..." He stopped again and a small smile formed. "Never mind. Here comes your meister along with a couple of friends now." The echoing of feet running through the hall soon reached their ears. Several seconds later the pink-haired boy along with the emo and her partner and raven rushed around the corner.

The entire group grinned or smile as the three, not counting the bird, neared them. "About time you show up," Soul said to his meister. Glancing to Alice, he said, "Can't say I'm excited about seeing you."

"The feeling mutual," replied Alice, monotonously.

"We'll have time to chat later," said Stein as he sprinted off. The gang was quick to follow. "Right now we got to get to the basement as soon as possible."

"Why?" asked Crona.

Unexpectedly, Kid was the one to speak up. "Down in the basement is the current resting place of the Kishin." For now, this was enough of an answer for them.

With Godspeed they rushed through the school to the place they wanted to be. In a small, stone room the group stood in front of an ancient entrance. A wide, dark opening with its sides painted with strange images dared them to enter. "From here on there is no turning back," said Stein as he peered into the darkness. "Beyond this point there is no way to grantee your safety. If anyone wants to turn back now, do so."

"With all due respect Professor," said Crona as he looked among the faces. As far as he could tell they were all ready for a fight. "That is a redundant question to ask." Smiling, the professor waited for the party goers to change into their normal clothing which they just happen to be carrying around.

"Now that we are ready," said Stein. "I want all weapons to transform and remain in their weapon form. There is no telling what danger we might face." The weapons did as they were told and soon all of the meisters were wielding their respected weapons. Seeing that they were ready, the professor led the charge down the stairs.

As they went Crona thought it was best to get informed about the situation. "The demons swordswoman was at the party?" he asked, a little dumbfounded.

Kid, who was riding on his skateboard, nodded his head. "She was dolled up and pretended to be blind. Too bad no one was rude enough to use their soul perception. Would have save Soul a lot of pain." Before Crona could asked, Kid added, "It best that we focus on the issue at hand." The scythe silently thanked the reaper. Everyone was going to learn what had happen, but for now at less his meister didn't know.

"What about the Kishin," asked Black*Star. "I know that your father defeated him and all that, but isn't he supposed to be dead."

"Unfortunately no, the Kishin was too powerfully back than to be killed. Father did the next best thing. He tore the Kishin's own skin off of his body to make a bag. With this bag he was imprison in it for what prison is stronger than one own skin."

"You're dad sounded like a scarier guy," commented Liz.

"Times were tougher back then."

"So whoever the invaders are they want to bring the Kishin back," said Crona. "I get that, but how do they plan on doing it? The Kishin was sealed away in his own skin." All Kid could give was a shrug.

Coming to a wide, stone hallway with pillars built into the wall, the professor came to a halt. The gang stopped as well. For a moment Stein's body tense up as his soul perception pry away the darkness to revel the enemy's soul. The tension quickly disappeared as he recognized it; a small smile formed on his face. "Which of the enemy is it," asked Crona as he and the others got into fighting stances.

Shaking his head, the professor said, "He maybe a testosterone crave pervert with committee issues, but he is friendly."

"Hey," shouted a voice that Crona knew all too well, "I resent that statement." Stepping out of the shadows, Spirit with his hands in his pockets glared at his friend. Spotting his son among the group, he said to him, "Hey Crona, nice to see you're here."-Jabbing a thumb at his chest- "You get see your old man in action."

Not sure if he should be glad or upset, the pink-haired boy settled on a neutral tone as he said, "Aren't you supposed to be chasing women?"

Falling over in disbelief, Spirit said as he got up, "In a sense I was, but she way too young for me." A strange smile formed as he said, "However, if there a way to hook up with one of the witches…"

"You were following the demon swordswoman," said Stein to keep the death scythe on track.

"Yeah," Spirit said, quickly becoming serious, "I thought it was best I keep an eye on her." Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "I was force to keep a distance since she was with a group, but there no doubt what she and the others are after."

"It's a good thing that you did follow her," said Stein as he walked up to the death scythe. "I won't have to go into a fight weaponless."

Smiling, the death scythe said, "Just like the old days." He extended a hand out which the professor grasped. Spirit's body glow a bright white, morphing into a scythe. The long, sleek, black wooden pole formed in the professor's hand. A curve, onyx blade attached to a piece of wood made the pole look like a cross. Once Stein was sure he got a firm grip on the death scythe the group started forward in a sprint.

A little ways away they came to a stop once more. "What is it this time?" asked an annoyed Black*Star.

The professor did not speak for he was too busy staring at the person in front of him. Stepping out from the darkness, the snake witch had a nonchalant smile plastered on her face as she said, "Look like a few pesky flies escaped from the trap." Ignoring the remark, the professor examined the massive soul that surrounded the witch. Nearly as powerful as his own the violet orb was decorated with snakes while several arrows stuck out of it. Though she wore a black hoody and sweatpants and feet bare, it was impossible to mistaken the face he had been staring at for the past months.

"Doctor Medusa Gorgon, I presume," said Stein without a trace of emotion.

Cocking an eyebrow, her expression turned form smug to curious. "Yes, I was once a doctor, but now I am simply Medusa."

"You know her," asked Crona as he stepped beside the professor.

The moment Medusa saw the pink-haired boy she knew it was her son. Call it mother's intuition, but she knew that boy was the same one she abandoned to fate all those years ago. Healthy and lean it would seem that life have given him a fair hand. Not that she cared. She was enjoying the twisted sense of irony that this day brought. _Maybe I should bring up the topic of him being adapted,_ thought the witch with sadistic glee.

"Personally, she a stranger," said Stein, breaking the witch's train of thoughts. Glancing between Crona and the death scythe, he wondered how much he should say. If Spirit hasn't figured out who Medusa was he doubted it was best to bring the subject up at the time like this. "Let just say she was a person of interest in a non-intimae kind of way." Whatever the boy thought of that, he just gave a nod and left it along for now.

Glancing back to the witch, Stein said, "Listen up everyone, this is how we're going precede. Based on what I seen we're match in the term of numbers- Five against five. I want all of you to rush on by this witch. Kid, since you're the fastest out of all of us you will rush by all obstacles to cut off two of the enemies at the front. I have no idea what they're doing, but whatever it is, stop them."

"Black*Star, one of the obstacles is the demon swordswoman. With your soul based attacks you should be able to defeat her. Next obstacle is the strong human soul. I'm letting Alice take care of him. She should be able to handle the man with no problem" That statement produced a smile from the emo. "Crona will also rush on ahead and when he meets up with Kid they will deliver the final blow. I'll deal with the Medusa."

"Talking about your strategy in front of the enemy," said Medusa in a bored tone. "Is that a wise idea?"

"Who wants to rush by the witch first?" ask Spirit with a bit of humor.

Base on their strategy Kid was the first to go. Skateboard dashing forth, he charged the witch. Smirking, she crossed her arms above her head and said, "Vector Storm." Multiple vector arrows shot out of the ground, forming a sphere around the witch. With a point of her fingers she sent the arrows soaring toward Kid.

Weaving through the storm, arrows nearly glaze the reaper as he went. On one of the arrows he grinded his skateboard on and then push off to grind another. Doing a one hundred and eighty, he spun out of the storm and dashed away.

Medusa barely gave the reaper a passing glance before Black*Star came running. "Yahoo," shouted the assassin. "There's no way a bunch of arrows are going to stop me." Like before, the arrows flew on by, one of them split in two by the ninja sword. Once he was out of range, he said to the witch, "See ya," before running off.

"Two out of four made it," Medusa said to herself. "Wonder how my boy would do?"

Staring at the arrows that hanged over and by the witch's side, Crona chewed the bottom of his lip. By no mean was he a slow person, but the speed of the attack got him second guessing. Shoving the thoughts to the side, he closed his eyes, took a deep breathe, and sprinted forward. The sound of his feet beating against the floor was the only thing he was aware of. _Don't think about the arrows_, he thought as his imagination tried to rear its ugly head. _Just keep on running. _

For a moment he thought he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. To counteract the thought of being impel his teeth broke the skin of his bottom lip. Blood rushed into his mouth the metallic taste giving him the extra boost he needed. Opening his eyes, he saw a flimsy wall of the arrows main body. He leapt forward, crashing through them with ease. Landing on his feet, he kept on running, not daring to slow down until he was far away from the witch.

Frowning, the witch let her eyes linger on the boy for a few seconds. A whooshing noise got her to whip her head around. An ax flew through the air, cutting through several of the arrows as it flipped end on end. Thinking that it was heading for her, Medusa ordered all arrows to converge on the ax. Each and every arrow stabbed for it, biting into the ground rather than striking the weapon. Her worries were unneeded for the ax buried itself into the floor in front of her. Before she could understand what happen, a mass of flesh crashed into her chest. Too focus on the weapon the witch hadn't seen Alice rushing up from behind, easily maneuvering around the grounded arrows.

All Alice did was cause the witch to stumble back, but it took her a moment to come out of the daze. Long enough for the girl to grab the ax and sprint away before being harm. "Why you little..." said Medusa as she turned to attack the emo.

Sensing someone behind her, she jumped to the side as the dark, curve blade came down. The arrows disappeared as she landed on her feet. Spinning around to face the professor, she stared him in the eyes. "Professor Franken Stein and Spirit Albarn; One of the greatest meister the academy ever produce with the most powerfully Death Scythe. I'll admit I was hoping I wouldn't run into either of you."

Shrugging, the professor said, "I'm flattered." Dashing forth, he swung the blade. With ease the witch dodged it and lashed out with a foot. The scythe's pole took the blow. Drawing back, the witch said, "Vector arrow." An arrow shot up from the ground, forcing Stein to fall back.

"Vector plate," she shouted. An arrow shape vector formed under her feet. It glow a bright purple and sent her flying forward. Twisting in the air, she positioned both feet to slam into the meister. Instead, they struck the scythe's pole. Launching off of it, she landed with her back to them. Before she could get away Stein rushed up behind her and slammed an open palm fist into her spine.

"Soul force," he shouted. A large amount of his soul wavelength gathered at his palm and in one big blow exploded into the witch's flesh. Flying forward, she slammed into the wall and fell to the floor in a heap. Quick to recover she shook her head and got back onto her feet. She tried to move, but found that her lower body was immobilized.

Looking down at her feet, her eyes open wide with shock. "What are these," she demanded. Thin, illumined white threads sewed her feet to the ground.

"Soul thread sutures," said the professor as he walked toward her. "The threads are made out of my soul wavelength. Thanks to Spirit's concentration we are able to use the soul wavelength I injected into your body to keep you still." -Running- "Now die."

"Vector Storm," shouted the witch. Once more arrows shot out from the ground, pushing Stein away from her. Stumbling back, he was quickly regained his balance to evade the arrows coming at him.

"I'm actually going have to work," said the witch as a smile formed. "It had been awhile since I had an equal peer.

* * *

><p>If one were to go down the hallway far enough he or she would come upon a large room. Large, square pillars painted the same dull yellow as the floor supported a ceiling that was shrouded by darkness. Though there were many pillars, they were plenty of space between each pillar, giving one the ability to easily move about.<p>

At the moment Maka- dressed in her normal clothes, hair down and eyes now green- was pacing about, waiting for something to happen. Ragnarok protruded from her back, equally as bored as her. As the girl paced back and forth the weapon pulled and tugged at her hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but he had "accidentally" pulled a little harder once or twice to get a reaction out of her. It failed for she was impatiently waiting for anyone to come along.

"Stupid bitch," muttered Maka, "leaving me back here to take care of the scraps. I should be the one at the front line but noooo. She afraid that I wouldn't be able to distracted the meisters long enough." Huffing, she said, "I was the one who saw them coming. I should be the one who get to play with them first." Glaring down the hall where the witch should be, she said "Probably killed most of them just to piss me off."

"She wouldn't do that," said the weapon, "but she would rub the fact in your face once she is done."

Grumbling so low that all that came out was mindless gibberish, she looked to the floor to see if there anything to kick. There wasn't even a speck of dust to disturb. Kicking the floor itself, she scrapped the bottom of her shoe against it. She looked back up to see nothing.

Facing one of the pillars, she shouted at it while waving her arms in the air, "Where the hell are the meisters?"

At that moment Kid zoomed on by. Hearing the noise the wheels produced, she spun around just in time to see the tail end of him. "I think a meister flew on by," said Ragnarok. Teeth clench together the girl spun around and banged her head against the pillar several times. Once she was done her hands grabbed her head to stop the world from spinning. A black scab form at the point where is pounded her forehead.

"Cool it Maka," said Ragnarok, "there several more meisters we can play with and one of them is an old friend of ours.

Shaking her head, the girl said, "You're right,"- whining like a child-"but I hate waiting."

"I don't like it any more than you do."

"I know," said the girl with a sigh. Sitting down with her legs crossed, she positioned herself so the next person who comes by had no choice by to go through her. "Hurry up Cotton Candy Head. It's been way too long since we last met." With that said she sat there, caring little that her weapon partner was messing with her hair.

* * *

><p>Free couldn't believe their luck. When Maka told them that several meister had escape from his cube he didn't want to believe it. However, that girl's eyes don't lie. Running on all four, he easily kept pace with Eruka's familiar. A large, black tadpole with glassy eyes, the familiar carried its master and cargo on its rounded back. Glancing up to the frog witch, he examined the determined face to see if it would revel any of her thoughts. It didn't.<p>

Glancing to the gray suitcase, he pondered on how it was important. Of course, what was in it was what made it important, but its contents were unknown to him. All Medusa told him when she sent him to fetch it from one of her many houses was that it was key to the revival of the Kishin. Eruka might have known, but he doubted it. To him it wasn't that important for he had a debt to repay and if that mean protecting the cargo and getting it to its destination. So be it.

His ears perked up, listening to the sound of battle in the far distance. "One of the meisters is fighting Medusa." Nodding, the witch didn't feel it was safe to speak. Fiercely loyal to the witch Free might not take a snide remark about her well. "Do you think that the human will be able to hold his own?"

"He's a son of Mother," said the witch with a trace of animosity. "I wouldn't be surprise if Mother had given him a gift. If nothing else he could delay the meister for a short time."

"Okay," said Free. "So what is going happen when we release the Kishin?" He asked only because he was curious. Born several hundred years after the Kishin's imprisonment he only knew of its power through stories.

Eruka opened her mouth to answer just to close it. Realizing that they had no plans, at less any she knew of, she shrugged her shoulder. "We'll figure something out," she said at last. Free wasn't too concern. If he knew Medusa she would had found a way to control it. She wouldn't just set the Kishin free without a mean of controlling it. Right?

* * *

><p>"Finally," said the demon swordswoman as she got to her feet, "here came somebody now." Sure enough, the echoing of footsteps kept on coming closer. The first thing she checked for was the color of the owner's hair. To her disappointment it was blue and spiky. "Oh well," she said to herself, "at least things aren't going to be boring anymore."<p>

The assassin came to a stop several feet away from the girl. Placing his fists on his hips, he gave the girl a quick look over. "You're the demon swordswoman," he said with clear disbelief. "Not much to look at." In respond the girl giggled as her mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. Eyes become unfocused as she pointed a cocked finger gun at him. Grinning uncertainly, the assassin said, "Girl, you are seriously messed up."

"Black*Star," shouted a scythe meister, "Don't you dare fight her." Glancing over his shoulder, the assassin spotted his pink-hair friend running this way. The girl lend to the side to see the boy. Stretching from ear to ear, a feral smile that could send chills down any reptile spine accompanied a dangerous look in her eyes. Crona came to a stop a few feet behind the assassin. "Go on ahead and help Kid," he ordered. "I take care of her."

"This isn't part of the plan," said the assassin as a mocking smile appeared. "You could really get hurt."

Marching forward, the demon swordswoman shoved the assassin to the side. "Sorry shorty," she said as she stared the scythe meister down. "But he and I got to finish up our play date that was rudely interrupted."

Jumping on one leg, the assassin nearly fell over. Anger at being literally shoved to the side he was about to launch himself at the girl. "Black*Star," his weapon partner calmly said, causing him to freeze, "this isn't our fight." Glancing between his weapon and friend, he saw the determination on Crona's face. He was going fought this girl no matter what. If he were to attack her there was a good chance his friend would strike him down.

"Alright than," said Black*Star as he turned his back, "be like that. Just make sure you stay alive long enough so I can save your ass."

A small smile graced the scythe meister's face as he chuckled lightly. "I'll cover your ass as soon as I'm done with the girl."

"Yeah, yeah," said the girl, rolling her eyes, "hurry up with the bromance. I rather not barf up my dinner." Nodding a farewell, the assassin dashed away, leaving the two alone.

"Well this suck," the demon said in frustration. Pulling hard at the girl's hair, her head was forced back into a painful angle. Before she could protest the demon placed a hand over her mouth. "Not only did you disobey Medusa by not stopping anyone. You overlooked a much more powerfully soul for this weakling." Violently, he shook her head back and forth. As he did this, he said to the scythe meister, "You must be retarded. Last time that puny scythe was nearly cut in half. What make you think you have a better chance now? Heck, I can probably pummel you to death from over here."

Shrugging nonchalantly, the meister said, "So?"

"So what?" exclaim the demon.

"So you think of me as an opponent rather than food. That's nice to know. Stop shaking your meister's head so we can talk."

"Like I'm going to..." As the demon was saying this, the girl managed to slip her fingers between the demon's hand and her lips. Prying it away, she grabbed the hand by the wrist and yanked it down. Catch by surprise the demon was also pulled down. A balled up fist shot up and slammed into where the chin should be. Recoiling back, the demon painful screams echoed throughout the room before settling into a quiet whimpers of cursing.

"Sorry about that," said the girl as she shook her head. "It is nearly impossible to control him without a punch or two."

"That kind of sad," said Crona as he lend on the scythe. "For just a powerfully team the two of you act like dysfunctional siblings."

Puffing her cheeks out, the girl's arms crossed her chest. "I take it that Red Eyes and Cotton Candy Head get along perfectly," she said sarcastically.

Frowning, the meister asked, "Still using those names?"-Chuckling- "Guess we didn't get acquainted last time." Taking the hat off his head, he bowed slightly. "Crona Albarn, scythe meister of DWMA. I do believe this is yours." Tossing the hat forward, the girl stretched out a hand to catch it. One good look of the hat brought a smile on her face.

"Maka," she said as she put the hat on, "the Demon Swordswoman. Thank you for returning my hat. I thought I lost it back in Mexico. It's too bad I'm going to have to kill you now." Glancing to the still suffering demon, she said, "Time to get in the game big guy."

"Give me a moment," said the demon as he disappeared into her back. Reappearing in her hands as a sword, its tongue licked its lips before giving a wild smile.

The scythe meister got into stance. "Hey Crona," said Soul, "Do we have a plan?"

"We're winging it," he said monotonously.

For a moment the scythe was silence. Breaking out into laughter, the scythe said, "It's officially. You're the coolest meister there ever is."

* * *

><p>Crona: *Stared at the end.* Talk about a cliff hanger.<p>

Mulleb: Is this a cliff hanger? *Shrug.* Whatever. As long it keep the readers reading it will do.

Maka: About time Crona and I meet up again. For story about us we are hardly seen together.

Mulleb: Again, blame the storyline.

Crona: Well, we're together now if not in a friendly environment.

Mulleb: True. Anyway, please review. Good criticism, flames and comments are always welcome.


	19. Chapter 18

Mulleb: *Laughing like a mad man. Noticing the people, he gave a crooked smile.* It's about time that we get our favorite nut case and quiet pink-haired boy together again. I was starting to worry it will never happen. *Started jumping up and down in place.*

Soul: *Stares at Mulleb. Said to Sistine.* Have Mulleb been smoking something? He seem edger than usually.

Sistine: *Drinking a glass of wine.* I would be worried if he wasn't acting like that. That is one of his ways of dealing with stress at the end of the day. Take all that pinned up emotions and let out in some silly action in a private setting. If he doesn't do it at less once a day he become frustrated.

Soul: Is he insane?

Mulleb: *Jumps over to Soul and wrap an arm around his shoulder.* Of course I am insane. Any one who deal with society every day is a little cooky. It just that we deal with stress in different ways.

Sistine: Alcohol is my way to escape the pressure and for some people reading stories like this is another. With that said I hope the readers enjoy the read.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eighteen<p>

Kid came to a stop. Skateboard on the ground, he stared at a particular sight. Black bombs painted as tadpoles with sharp, pointed teeth floated in the air in an irregular pattern. At first he stopped because of the obvious reason that there were floating bombs blocking the path. However, the more he stared at them the more apparent it become that they were completely unsymmetrical. "Don't stare at them too long," warned Liz. "Just be careful with flying on through and they'll be out of sight in no time."

"Right," Kid said weakly as he moved to launch the skateboard. Instead, his knees buckled right from under him. Putting a hand to his stomach, he said, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"We really don't have the time for this Kid," Liz shouted at her meister.

"I'm not surprise that he's upset," said Patty. "There are a bunch of bombs floating in front of us."

Pausing for a moment to ponder on that statement, Liz said, "I guess that make sense. However, we got to keep moving. Patty, please motive Kid."

"Okay," chirped the younger sister, cheerfully. If one were able to see the face she made they would be freak out by how twisted and mean it became. "Kid," she exclaimed in a low, gravely voice, "Get your ass moving right now." For a moment the reaper sat there, stunned.

Next thing they knew Kid soared down the hallway oblivious to the fact he set off every bomb behind him as he went. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as the reaper exclaimed, "I hate you Patty. I really do." Not at all offended the younger sister mentally smiled.

"Good work sis," said Liz as she observe how fast they're going. "Not only are we moving the blasts from the explosions are propelling us forward faster." Humming, Patty's smile grew a little bigger. "If we keep this pace up we'll catch up with the enemy in no time." With that said the trio soared down the hallway, destroying it while at the same time clearing the path for the others.

* * *

><p>Sometime during the fight Stein managed to take his glasses off and shoved them into a lab coat pocket. One of the lenses had cracked and those glasses were the only pair he had. He was a bit surprise that he managed to do that much. Neither Medusa nor he had let up during their fight. At the moment he was low to the ground his body sewn to it by Soul Thread Sutures. A vector plate underneath him forced him to make this move.<p>

Jumping backward, the witch extended an arm and said, "Bad move professor." A magical snake shot out of her wrist and toward Stein. Not at all concern he released the sutures. Glowing purple, the arrow propelled him forward. As he left his spot the serpent's head crashed into the stone. He swung the scythe's blade at the witch, but she easily evaded.

Landing on his feet, he skidded a little before coming to a stop. He turned toward Medusa and dashed forth, swinging the blade as he went. Smirking, the witch sat back on her tail. The many snakes within her body twisted it this way and that to avoid injury. After one of the swings a foot struck out to smack the professor across the head.

Staggering back, he shook his head a little as he regained his footing. Still on her tail the witch watched Stein with amusement. A gloating smirk that would boil a normal person blood received a cold stare from the professor. "Why don't we take a quick break?" said the witch. "Take the time to chat a little."

To make sure Stein doesn't get any bright ideas the witch summoned multiple vectors around them. Forming a large circle, all of the arrows pointed inward. In a defensive stance Stein glanced at the arrows and then to Medusa. She stayed where she was, watching him with an engross look. The same look he gave a specimen just before he dissect it.

"So what do you want to talk about?" he asked. This was contradicting to the plan for he needed to finish her off as soon as possible. That didn't mean he wouldn't like a couple of questions to be answer.

The witch hummed a little as she thought. "You seem to be an intelligent enough man," she said. "So let me asked you a question. How do you like the way "Lord" Death is running things?" Stein cocked an eyebrow. "In other words do you think that the order the reaper impress on all of us is suitable?"

"Lord Death keep order in the world so it doesn't regress into chaos," replied Stein. "Without him things would be worst off."

"So Lord Death is against change," she stated.

"I did not say that."

"But there is no need to," she said as the tail lowered her back onto her feet. "Whenever someone presents a change to the world there is always a chance for chaos. Therefore, Death must neutralize this threat so what you call chaos does not ensure. What he is stopping is progress, not chaos"

Her fingers gripped the long strand hair between them and twisted it. "Let take Nazi Germany for example. With their rise to power they seek ways to impress their master race ideology onto the world through the mean of war. As they fought and conquer countries they develop technology and search the many fields of science to help them become rulers of the world. Before the allies finally struck them dead the Nazi had made many discoveries from the suffering of men. Ever wonder how we know the coldest temperature a person can survive or how the first true organ transplant was studied? Thanks to the Nazis and their experiments they better the world in the end even when they seek to destroy it."

"These men you praise were monsters," Stein stated coldly.

"Maybe," she said with a shrug, "but then what does that make you. I saw the madness in your eyes the moment I spotted you. You're good at hiding it, but there's a beast inside that knows that I am right." Stein made no move to protect his character. No need in hiding the fact he was not the sanest person around. "Are you speechless because I'm right or are you refusing your true nature?"

"Why do you even care?" he asked. Before she could speak, he added, "Before we go on about me I like to clear something up. The attempt to release the Kishin is a sign that your experiment with the girl had fail. That much I understand, but where did you kidnapped the girl from? Doctor Medusa."

"You do have some intelligence," said the witch with a smile. "And I do believe that you already know the answer. Glancing to the death scythe, she added, "However, if her biological father hasn't figured it out yet. It is best that we inform him."

"My little girl," said Spirit, emotions caught between denial and angry. "She is the demon swordswoman."

"More like a goofball with emotional management issues," said the witch as she glanced over her shoulder. "When I took her from her crib all those years ago I did not foresee her becoming what she is today. Certainly she is crazy, but her control over the madness is like that of her partner. Once the Kishin is free I will have no need for her." Looking to the death scythe, she asked, "Want her back? You'll be short of a child soon enough. My boy would probably…"

Morphing back into human form, Spirit marched over to the witch with every intention to shove his fist into her teeth. As he was about to deliver the blow Stein grabbed the weapon by the shoulder and yanked him back. Just in time to for Medusa's tail nearly pierced his gut. On his butt Spirit's back hand wiped away at the tears that refuse to be dammed.

"That was reckless of you," stated Stein.

"I'm sorry," said Spirit, his voice trembling from anger, "but the way she spoke of her child. Even if she was stolen, how can a mother be... be..." He was at a lost of words, but the professor filled in for him. "How could a mother be so heartless to the one she supposed to love and protect?" Slamming his fist into an open palm, Spirit exclaimed, "Exactly. It's almost impossible to imagination."

A dark look in his eyes accompanied by an odd smile and the tears made for a strange expression. To Medusa, he said, "Thanks for the offer, but you can keep her. My son- don't you dare call him your boy- is good enough for me. As for him being killed..." The pride in his voice told all that needed to be said. However, Spirit added, "He'll be too busy sending that girl to hell to worry about dying."

Medusa couldn't help herself. The irony of the situation was too much. A dark, mirthful laugh burst from his lips, filling the room with its awful sound. "Get back into weapon form," ordered Stein. "Crona might be able to handle his battle, but we must deal with our own." Nodding in agreement, Spirit quickly changed back into a scythe. While Stein got into stance he sent out a pray for his pinked-hair student. _Show the demon swordswoman the way to Death's doorstep._

* * *

><p>"It official," said Soul with a chuckle, "you're the coolest meister there ever is."<p>

Smiling, Crona said, "Not sure how cool I'll be if we're dead." Looking the girl over, he wondered why she stood there, waiting. Base on that mischievous grin she badly wanted to begin this brawl. The demon sword was also unusually quiet. "However, I don't plan on dying today. We are going to win this."

"Are we playing a game?" Maka asked gleeful as she took a step forward. Crona stood his ground, but his grip on the scythe tightened. "What do you want to play? Leap frog, cowboys and Indians, or maybe a little black jack. The possibilities are endless."

Though the scythe meister found this bizarre, he somehow knew what he would say next would affect the battle. "Let play tag," said Crona. Taking a quick sidestep forward, he pulled the scythe back and thrust the blunt end into the swordswoman's stomach. The sword parried it to the right, but couldn't stop the fist that slammed into Maka's face. Stumbling back a little, her head tilled backward slightly. "And you're it," said Crona as he placed both hands back on the scythe.

Once she came to a stop the swordswoman whipped her head forward; that creepy, playful smile plastered on. "I haven't played tag before," she exclaimed as she rushed Crona, "but it sounds fun!" The blade cut away at the air as the scythe meister back off. Running into a pillar, he ducked to evade and with his scythe's pole in front of him he leapt at her.

Tackling her in the gut, he knocked the swordswoman to the ground. Natural reflexive forced her to put her hands behind her back which kept her torso up. However, before she could stand a fist slammed into her face. On the ground, she took a couple of kicks to her side. Turning her head at the scythe meister, she opened her mouth and let loose a piercing scream.

He jumped back in time to avoid the worst of the blow, but vertigo made the world become unbalance for a few seconds. "Good job," said the scythe. "Blunt attacks like that will cause internal damage without cutting her. The fewer cuts there are the less blood she can use against us." As he said this the swordswoman got to her feet.

"I know," said Crona, "but it feel as if I'm punching lead."

"Come on," said Maka as she wipe a strand of hair out of her eyes, "is that the best you can do?"

Gripping the sword's halt with both hands, she heaved it up and started to spin around. As she spun faster and faster she quickly come at Crona. At first he easily dodged the first few, sloppy swings. Then like an out of control gyroscope she started slicing everything within her reach. A nick to the forehead and one to at the kneecap told how close she came to crippling him.

All the while she sang, "Ring around the rosy. A pocket filled with posies. Ashes! Ashes! We all fell down." She sung this nursery rhyme over and over. At some point she became disoriented for she broke off her attack, heading in the opposite direction for no good reason. She came to stop when the blade sunk into one of the pillars and stayed there.

Staggering about, her hold on the sword was the only thing keeping her from falling over. "Why is the world spinning," she said with a goofy smile. She took a clumsy step to the left, evading an incoming fist. She swung her gloved hand at the scythe meister, slapping him across the cheek with the back of the hand.

Taking several step back, one of Crona's hands rubbed the area where he was hit. "You're it," exclaimed Maka. Jerking the sword out of the pillar, she got into a defensive position. "You can't tag me again!"

A deadpanned expression concealed the scythe meister's worries. He knew that the longer they dragged the fought on the slimmer his chances at survival were. With that in mind he rushed forward with the scythe pulled back. He swung the blade at the swordswoman's legs. As expected she stood there and took the blow without taking any real harm. The girl raised a cocky eyebrow, but it soon went down when her feet were swipe upward.

Even as she fell she twisted her body. An arm absorbed the impact, but she was quick to roll away from the kicks. On her feet, she cut the back of her arm. Rushing forward with her arm out, she exclaimed, "Bloody slicer." With a flick of her arm a large, curve blade crafted from hardened blood extended out. When in range she tried to slice the scythe meister's chest open. The scythe took the blunt of the blow. Just before Crona could get away the swordswoman head butted him. "This is getting boring," Maka proclaimed as Crona stumbled back. "Let play leap frog!"

Though Crona didn't know how leap frog would play out, he wasn't expecting her to slice away at her bare skin. To his horror the blood flowed freely from the wounds. Last time this happened his zombified teacher was almost catch in a deadly surprise

Once the girl finished mutilating herself she got on all four. The sword disappeared into her body and she started hopping around. She croaked like a frog as she went, quickly going from one pillar to the other. At each pillar she would slam her body against it to leave a massive blood spot.

All the while the scythe meister and weapon could only stare dumbly at the strangeness. "We probably should stop her," said the scythe meister.

"From hurting herself?"

"No, but..."

Rushing forward, Crona swung the blade so it could hook around the swordswoman's side. Spotting the meister, Maka came to a stop. She crouched there with a sly smile on her face. Just before the scythe hit her a white gloved hand shot out from her back and grabbed the pole. As Ragnarok formed he lifted the meister up into the air.

Pulling his arm back, the demon brought Crona to his face. Expressionless ping pong eyes stared straight into ones full on poison. "She isn't done yet," said the demon. "So sit down and wait for your turn." He lifted the pole over his head and shook it rapidly. Clinging on for dear life, Crona clench his teeth together. The world became a blur as the demon shook the scythe harder. Timing his kick, he struck Ragnarok squarely on the forehead. The demon's head recoiled back. "Damn it," he screamed as he stop the shaking. As he brought his head up he threw the meister onto the floor. Crona bounce twice before skidding for another few inches- the wind knocked out of him "Hurry up," he shouted at Maka, "that stunned him but it won't last."

"Right," she said as she bolted to her feet. Sprinting to the nearest pillar, she made sure that as much black blood spilt onto the floor and pillar. As she did this the scythe meister slowly got to his feet. Flesh protest at the abuse it took, but he was certain he can walk it off. He didn't get far. Completing the square, Maka end it by going into a roll. She came out of it facing the scythe meister with both bloody palms pointed at him. "You got nowhere to run," she said with a crazy grin.

She wasn't lying. Black blood floated in the air, crawl the walls, and scattered all over the floor. All of it position to hone in on the scythe meister. "Bloody needle barrage," she proclaimed. Multiple spikes of harden blood shoot toward the center of the square perimeter. Head bowed so she wouldn't get hit she didn't see the needles pierce the boy's body. Nor did she hear flesh being torn apart. That didn't mean she was certain he was done for. "I won," she whispered to herself.

Ordering the black blood to dissolve, it all came down in one big splash. Then the blood crawled over to her and sapped through the numerous cut on her body. Normally, she wouldn't do this due to the risk of infection, but to perform an attack like that require a large amount of blood. She was going to need as much as she could get to face the other meisters.

Tilling her head up, her eyes grew wide. "No...Fucking...Way!" she shouted. An unharmed Crona stood on top of the scythe. One leg thrust out into the air while arms rotated wildly to keep the delicate balancing act from falling apart. Though the scythe had many nicks in the pole it supported the meister with ease.

"Ragnarok," she shouted as she extended an arm. The sword quickly formed in hand. Dashing froth, she ran straight for the pole. As she neared it the scythe meister lean his weight backward. The end of the pole shot upward and into Maka's jaws, causing her to stumble back a bit. On the ground Crona quickly picked the scythe up. He turned it around, raised it up, and slammed the dull side of it onto the swordswoman's head.

Before he could inflict any more damage Maka jumped out of reach. With one hand on a developing bump, she glared at the scythe meister. "No fair," she shouted, "that's an unfair way to use your scythe."

"Hey," said Soul with a trace of pain, "I didn't like being use as a step stool either. For a scrawny guy he weighs like ton."

"Tell me about," said Ragnarok. "Have this fatso step on you several times. The headache lasted for a week."

"Don't agree with him," Maka shouted at her partner as she shot him a death glare. "He's the enemy."

"Facts are facts," said the sword as a matter of fact. "Like the fact that your little plan failed miserably. Seriously, cut the guy in two or hit him with a scream alpha. It would make our life a lot easier."

"But it wouldn't be as fun," exclaimed Maka. "What the point of killing people if we don't add a little fun to the mix?"

"Excuse me," interrupted Crona, "but can we get back to the fight." A little tick mark couldn't help but form when a hand waved him off. As if arguing with her weapon partner was more important than taking his life. That was plain out insulting. "Let make a bet," he shouted. That got her attention.

"A bet," she said as a smile formed, "what sort of bet?"

"Neither of us has put everything we got into this fight. So let see who got the strongest soul resonance. Whoever resonant with their partner the best will get a free non-lethal hit to the other." Soul did not need to say a word to tell his meister he didn't like this idea. The influctuation of his soul wavelength did the talking. Non-lethal was too board of a word and in all honesty. The swordswoman could cause more harm than they could.

"One free hit," she said as her eyes looked to the ceiling. Humming a little tone, it didn't take long for her to see advantage she had. "Alright than, I'll take you up on your offer, but you'll be sorry that I did."

"Crona," whispered Soul as the pole bend so the blade faced his meister, "our soul wavelength..."

"This is going to work," said the scythe meister, "Trust me." After a brief silence, the scythe nodded before straightening. Getting into stance, he said, "Get ready. I won't go easy."

"I wouldn't have it any other way" replied Maka with a playful grin.

"Soul/Scream resonance," shouted the meisters in union. Ragnarok howled his bloodthirsty cry. Maka snicker before bursting into uncontrolled fit of giggles. She could not only see, but feel her enemy resonating so well, so smoothly. A light pink aura encased the scythe meister as his partner enchanted their attack. They were putting heart and soul into it. She couldn't say the same thing. Right now the world was a hazy burl in her mind. All she knew that the powerful soul in front of her had yet to crease to be entertaining.

* * *

><p>It was probably a dumb idea to stop and watch two powerful souls of her age group duke it out. However, Alice stood from afar to watch this beautiful sight. She can't see their souls directly, but she didn't need to. The cold, steely expression on Crona's face and the insane, fiery one on the swordswoman provided a peek at their inner workings.<p>

Resting on her shoulder, Poe also admired the souls in front of them. Animals were said to have a closer connection to the spiritual world. Maybe he saw the whole picture and, in his own way, understood it.

"I'm glad we're not facing her," said the ax which lay on the other shoulder. "You would have been a bloody mess by now."

Nodding in agreement, the ax meister said, "True, but I wish it was us in that position. She and I would probably have a certain understanding." Clair had no idea what her meister was talking about so she didn't respond. "Better get moving," said the meister as she sprinted away. "Need to take care of the human soul before one of the other does."

* * *

><p>"That's it," said Soul, "I don't think we can go any higher without causing ourselves harm."<p>

As much as Crona wanted to argue he knew his weapon was right. They already pushed the safety limit. It would be foolish to push beyond their limit. "Witch hunter," he shouted. With ease the scythe took all of his spiritual energy to transform into the glowing crescent moon.

"Scream Gamma," Maka sang. The sword grew in width and length. The main body became solid black while a blue aura radiated off ir. Shape like a scream alpha attack a jagged mouth formed near the base. "Hm," she hummed as she glanced at the two weapons with a thoughtful expression. "I can't tell which is more powerful. Oh well,"-shrugged- ", whoever cause the most damage wins. Since you acted like a gentleman early you may go first."

Crona gave a quick nod before dashing forward. It took every ounce of his will power to keep the move together, but for once it will work. His first horizontal swing was easily evaded. Second vertical swing nearly glazed her nose. The last one did connect, but not in the way he hoped or expected. Pulling a fist back, the swordswoman launched it straight at the blade. To Crona's and Soul surprise the impact between the colliding objects scatter the witch hunter.

Jumping back, Crona quickly examine the blade. As far as he could tell nothing terrible seemed to happen to it. "My turn," exclaimed the swordswoman, launching herself forward. He barely had time to lift the scythe up to block. The rapid blows came fast and hard as the demon sword vibrated from its screams. Muffled screams of pain emitted from the scythe. "What the matter?" she mockingly said with an innocent smile. "It's just a little pain."

The sword's mouth bit into the pole. A loud howl echoed throughout the room. "Get off of him," yelled Crona. He kicked his foot into her stomach with enough force to break the attack off. "Are you alright?" he asked Soul.

"Peachy," grunted the scythe. "We can't keep doing this. We need a new strategy."

"He's right," said Maka. Planting the tip of the sword, which has turned back to normal, into the floor, she lend on its hilt. She offered them a lazy smile. "Even with the pain you inflicted all you done is irradiate me. I guess with some people if you hurt them badly enough they will leave you alone. However, I'm use to a life of pain. Punch me all you want. You'll just delay the inevitable."

Gesturing with her head, she tilled it behind her. "The way to the Kishin isn't far from here. If you somehow get past me you might be able to help your friends."

"And let you hunt me down like an animal?" asked Crona, clearly disgusted by the idea. "Or better yet go help that witch finished off Stein and Dad. Not going to happen."

"The death scythe is your dad?" she asked with a roll of her eyes. "Figures. I pick a fight with the son of a powerful death scythe. As for helping my mother out, forget it. In fact, I am hoping that Screw Head kills her. Good ridden I say."

"Yeah," exclaimed the demon, "that bitch had been a thorn in our side for way too long. With her gone we can finely do what we want."

Nodding his head as if he finally understood, Crona said, "I thought that she looked familiar."

"Really," said Maka with a cocked eyebrow, "how so?"

"She looked vaguely like you." For some reason, which the scythe meister wouldn't have understood, the girl's eyes squinted in angry. "I wonder where your personality came from. What sane person would release the Kishin? What person would act so innocent one moment and the next they're a murder? It not hard to see that the two of you are..."

It happened so fast that it took Crona a dozen seconds to realize he was on the ground. His check throbbed in pain and the scythe flew from his hand. Maka stood over him with a trembling, clench fist to her side. Though most of her face tried to be monotonic, eyes brimmed with rage and, dare he guess it, shame.

"Maka," shouted Ragnarok. He was as confused of his meister's action as the scythe meister was. "If you're going to kill him come over here and..."

"Shut up!" she yelled so hard that it partly came out as an inaudible scream. Turning her attention on the sword, she said, "If you don't I'll shove the nastiest shit I can find down your throat." The demon was used to threats, but this... what word would be stronger than insane. Whatever it was she was that at the moment and was more than willing to carry out the promise. Having no desire to eat waste products, Ragnarok clamped his jaw shut.

Satisfied, she turned her eyes back on Crona who was still in a bit of a daze. With both hands on the collar she heaved him up to eye level. Since she was shorter than him his lower leg laid on the ground. "Never," she said, voice trembling, "ever compare me to my mom. Do you know what true hell is like?"

Any answer he could give could kill him, so he wisely chose to keep quiet. "I thought not." In a low, almost a whisper, voice, she said, "Hell is when your lock away in a dark, lonely room with no one to interact with for weeks on end. Hell is when food is denied just for speaking one mind. Hell is when the only way to get the approval from someone is to turn into a murderous freak. I could go on forever but in short. Hell is my life and my god forsaken mom done this to me. I have killed people, but I never torture them. Don't you ever compare to her."

As she talked Soul transform back into human form. With one arm a blade he crept up behind the swordswoman. The demon would have shouted a warning but he was ordered to keep his mouth shut. "Die you crazy bitch," shouted Soul as he tried to drive the blade into her back. It barely broke through the top layer of skin.

Eyes narrowing, the girl let go of Crona as she elbowed Soul in the chest, knocking him flat onto the ground. The weapon tried to get up but a foot on his stomach held him firmly in place. "And you," she spitted out, "I am so sick and tired of you." Balling her gloved hand into a fist, a bunch of long, bloody needles thrust through skin and cloth.

"People like you," said Maka, "drives me crazy. So crazy that sometime I wish the whole world will just roll over and commit suicide already." Pulling the fist high into the air, she stared straight into his eyes. She wanted to see the light go out. "I hate to say this but bye-bye. The game is over for you."

On his butt, Crona could do nothing more than watch in terror as the girl plunge her fist downward. "Soul!" he screamed, his heartfelt cries echoed throughout the caverns.

* * *

><p>Glancing over his shoulder, Kid could have sworn he heard someone off in the distance. "Was that Crona," said Patty, reconfirming the reaper's thoughts. The other two shrugged at the question for the voice was too far off to recognize clearly. The trio entered into a hallway with much of its stone structures destroyed. Pillars came apart to form stalagmites and stalactites, pieces of statues sculpted into oddly shape animals were missing, and parts of the walls had long ago come crumbling down. However, a single, wide path nestled between the piles of rubble gave an easy passage through.<p>

Landing his skateboard, Kid just stood there, staring into the darkness. "Is someone ahead of us," asked Liz.

"No," he said in an eerie tone "I feel the Kishin's soul wavelength." With his second sight he could see something strange. Three set of eyes large, red eyes with black pupils- one stood complete vertical while the other two were slightly tilled- stared him down as a solid wall of a crimson soul wavelength radiate from behind it. "Even from here its madness is overwhelm."-Louder to be heard over a distance- "So overwhelm that I almost didn't notice the person hiding in the darkness."

Not long after he said this, a large, black man wearing nothing more than white pant and sandals walked into view. At a slow pace he came forward. Half way down the path he stopped. There he stood, staring at the reaper with an unreadable face. "It's a big, black guy," said Patty, stating the obvious.

"I can see that," said Kid. After a brief pause, he said, "Apparently, he just going to stand there to psych us out. I doubt he fast enough to stop us. Alice can deal with him however she likes."

With that said he launched the board into the air and soar forward. As before the man stood there, watching them come straight at him. Not wanting to harm the human, Kid guided the board so he'll soar just out of his reach. Or at less what he thought was out of the man's reach. Just as the trio was about to pass him a hand shot out and grabbed the main frame of the board. The sudden halt sent Kid flying through the air. Flapping his arms up and down in a fruitless attempt to fly, he fall face first into the unforgiving ground.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he glanced over his shoulder. Just in time to see the man barreling down on him. Kid rolled to the side as a fist crashed into where his chest was. The impact created a small crater. Once on his back the reaper pointed his pistols at the man and fired. Purple bullets hit him dead on in the chest. However, the man simply looked down at his chest with mild interest before advancing.

Forced to stop shooting to evade another fist Kid quickly scampered to his feet. He recommenced firing. Like the first time the bullets had little effect on the man. However, he kept on firing as he walked backward toward where wanted to go. The man walk a little faster and was soon again on top of him.

Another fist struck out. Kid duck and lashed a leg out at the man's hip. The limb bounced away as if it hit an invisible force field. Before he could regain his balance the man grabbed his arms and pinned them to his side. With little effort he tossed Kid into the air right back to where the reaper started.

Twisting in the air, Kid's feet meet the ground and skidded a little before coming to a stop. He quickly lifted the pistols up, expecting another attack. Instead, the man retook his first position and stood there. The reaper was puzzled by this. "He can't be afraid of hurting us," stated Liz.

"He's not," said Kid as his arms drop to his sides. Allowing his body to relax, he scanned the man over. "My guess is that his job is to distract. For some reason he does not think killing us is necessary." In a louder voice, he called out to the man, "Excuse me good sir, but do you know who I am?"

At first the man hesitated to speak, but whatever worried him wasn't that important. In his native tongue, he said, "The son of the death lord himself." Kid understood every word the man said. Being able to understand and speak multiple languages was a benefit of being a reaper.

"Correct," said Kid as he took an experimentally step forward. The man did nothing to stop him. In his mind as long as the kid doesn't pass him. He doesn't have to do anything. "As a reaper it is my duty to protect the world from madness. I don't know if you're doing this willing or not, but let me pass and I assure you that things can be arrange to over look this mishap. However, continue to be a nuisance and lethal measure will be use."

Shrugging, the man extended his arms, palms out, away from his body. "Fire away,"

Nodding, the reaper said, "Alright then, can't say I haven't tried to warn you." Thrusting his hands forward, he said, "Soul Resonance." The pistols morphed into cannons.

As it charged up Liz said, "Death cannons is at ninety- nine percent."

Patty said, "We'll be ready to fire in three...

"Two..."

"One."

"Cannons are ready to fire."

"Last chance to back out," Kid yelled to the man. He gave the reaper an easy going smile. "Suit yourself."-Shouting- "Death Cannons." Both cannons went off without a problem. Both soul cannonballs struck the man head on. As the shinigami shaped smoke clouds floated upward Kid sighed. Even if it was a reaper's job to make sure order is kept it didn't make it any easier to kill an innocent soul.

That remorse was short lived. As soon as the smoke clouds cleared away he saw the black man still standing, uninjured, with arms across his chest and a prideful smirk on his face. "Was that supposed to hurt?" asked the man, actually sounding curious. "I would have thought Lord Death's son would be more… powerful."

Gritting his teeth, Kid thought, _He took my Death Cannons without receiving a scratch. My bullets and martial attacks had failed. There is no way he could be taking that much damage without something protecting him. It must be magic or some technology, but I can't tell how he's doing it. _After a few more minutes of thinking he thought up of threes way to deal with the man. Figure out have he is protected and somehow found a weakness in that defense, out run him, or wait for one of the other to come along so they could gang up on him.

Without his skateboard or proper knowledge of the man's defense, Kid didn't want to throw his life away needlessly. To his frustration he was going to have to wait while the two enemies in the led kept on getting closer to the Kishin. "Guys," he whispered, "you better hurry. Things are not looking good on my end." With that said the two stood in that hallway, leaving Kid to calculate a way to get by the invincible black man.

* * *

><p>Mulleb: *Along with Sistine were laughing like manics. To Soul.* This is probably the most ironic chapter I going write for this story and I must say I'm loving it.<p>

Soul: *Glares at the two hosts.* Why is that in the last few chapters I'm taking the worst of the beating? Not only that but you force Maka to kill me and have her father denounce her! Actually, she might be happy about the later one but still. That just plain out cruel!

Sistine: *Shove a glass of wine into the albino's hands.* Cheers to your funeral.

Soul: *Throw glass onto the ground. It scattered.* This isn't funny!

Mulleb: Lighten up, there is more to be tell. Besides, it could be worst.

Soul: How?!

Sistine: We could have killed you already. Anyhow, I hope the readers like the chapter. Even if a beta reader haven't look it over.

Mulleb: Which I'm badly trying to get. Last weekend I spent several hours searching for a good beta reader. For the My Little Pony story I am might be okay. However, I still need a beta reader for this story. If anyone like to beta read for me, please send a PM. You don't have to be a genius. All I ask is that you are good with grammar, have decent spelling skills, and able to finish editing a chapter in about a week and if need be a few more days can be added on.

Sistine: And that all we have to say for this chapter.

Soul: Wait a min...

Sistine: Please review! Good criticism, flames and comments of all sort are welcome. Now who would like a drink?


	20. Chapter 19

Sistine: *Her arm around a tall guy.* Hey everyone. I want you to meet a new friend of my. This guy here is Kence.

Kence: *To Maka and Crona.* Hey.

Crona: Why is he here?

Sistine: To make sure that no ghost are haunting this place, but mostly because Mulleb ditched us for the day and I wanted to introduce the new guy.

Maka: So you deal with ghost? Does that mean...

Kence: Sorry, I can't tell, but in truth. *Glancing to Sistine.* I need to get back to my universe. I have an important client to attend to.

Crona: What exactly do you do?

Kence: Like the girl say I take care of ghost. Specifically the violent ones with my psychic powers. *Receive strange stares.* What? I'm a psychic who can fight ghost and trying to make a business out of it. That isn't any stranger than a bunch of kids running around with weapons that turn into people, killing crazy people because the grim reaper ordered them to do so.

Maka: When you state it like that...

Sistine: No need for fighting. There plenty of that in this chapter. With that said, enjoy the read.

* * *

><p>Chapter Nineteen<p>

The world held its breath. All sound within the room vanished. Crona watched the demon swordswoman plunge a spiky fist into Soul's chest. Soon, the crazed girl would be finished with the weapon and turn her attention on him. However, she stayed where she was, staring down into lively eyes.

Pain mixed with confusion swam in Soul's eyes. This made no sense to the swordswoman. Dead eyes should be void of all things that could remotely be considered humanity. If she wanted to make him suffer, the pain would be there, but she wanted to end him swiftly. Her fist didn't feel wet. Blood should be soaking the knuckles by now.

Catch in that place where surreal meet reality Soul could only lay there and stare into lakes of emerald bordered by snow white. Too many thoughts run through his mind too quickly to grasp on. The aching pain in his chest told him he lived- felt as if a bone had broken. For the time being the fact that he was alive was enough.

Without looking, Soul gripped Maka by the wrist. "Get off of me," he grunted as he lifted the fist up. Tilling his head to look at it, he stopped the lifting to gawk. Still staring at the weapon, the swordswoman tried to force the fist down. It trembled, but it would not budge.

"Maka," Ragnarok called out, "stop and look at your hand?" She chose not to hear him. "Seriously, there's something wrong with it!"

Growling, the swordswoman said, "Did someone forget the promise I made?"

"Your hand is glowing!"

"Really," she said with a wicked smile. Turning her eyes onto the fist, she added, "That the stupidest thing I ever heard. What am I? A light..." Her voice trailed off. Encase in a blue aura the fist looked to be normal; the bloody needles had vanished. For the first time she noticed a tingling sensation. Felt as if the hand has fallen asleep. Then all the sudden the tingling erupted into piercing pain.

Jerking the fist up to her face, she pulled Soul partly up before he let go of her. Her free hand gripped the base of the fist. "My hand's on fire," she exclaimed as she burst into a sprint. Running about like a headless chicken, she searched the room for anything that might numb the pain. All the while she shouted, "Water! Where is some water?"

"Maka," shouted Ragnarok, "come over here and let me back into your body. I might be able to help." Skidding to a stop, the swordswoman rushed over to the sword. The moment the glowing hand connected with the hilt Ragnarok roared out in agony. "Use the other hand!" Quick to comply the hands switch places. Almost immediately the pain the sword felt faded away. "I'll see what I can do," said Ragnarok as he dissolved into the hand.

"Please hurry," whined Maka, "it hurts." Not able to hold still she jogged in place while the demon refortified the black blood.

Getting to their feet, Crona and Soul cautiously watched the swordswoman. Based on the agonized face she wasn't a threat at the moment. However, they couldn't understand what was going on.

"Poor girl," said a feminine voice behind Crona, "self-destructive immune systems are never painless." Startled, Crona twirled around to find someone that shouldn't be here. Don in a purple blouse and blue jeans Sistine peered around the taller boy to watched Maka. "Hey Crona," said the brunette without looking at him, "how you doing?"

Thrown off by the casual question, he said, "Fine… I guess. Oh wait, my weapon partner was nearly killed. How you think I'm doing?" Shouting that last part, Soul heard him.

"Who you talking to," asked the weapon as he turned his head.

Before Crona spoke, Sistine said, "You're the only one who can see me so save your breath."

When his meister didn't respond Soul shrugged and turned his attention back on the swordswoman. In a quieter voice, Crona said, "What are you doing here?"

Smiling, she replied, "A little birder told me to inform a certain pink-haired meister of important info. Ask nicely and I'll be on my way as if I was never here." Crona was in no mood for playing games. However, free information shouldn't be taken lightly.

"I'll bite," he said as he turned his gaze on the swordswoman. Preoccupied with her hand the rest of the world didn't exist at the moment. "What is going on?"

"It simple really," she said with a smug tone. "If I remember correctly Spirit told you about the anti-demon soul wavelength." It took all of a second for the scythe meister to realize where this was going. Seeing the look on his face, she said, "That's right. Madness and order cannot reside in the same body. So the wavelength is targeting the black blood which in turn is destroying the vessel it lives in.

"But that doesn't make sense," said Crona with a confuse expression. "Shouldn't the wavelength attack the blood once it was in her system?"

"Sorry," said Sistine as she twirled around, "I'm not the one to tell. However, I can say how the dormant wavelength came back to life." Glancing over to Crona she said, "You can thanks Treou and Clair for saving Soul's ass. By pumping her soul wavelength into Maka, Clair unintentionally awakened the soul wavelength. Only reason it haven't affect her till now is because of her unconscious mind. Again, I can't say more than that." Like a flash of lighting Sistine disappeared in a dim flash.

Turning his attention on the swordswoman, Crona's tried to think of a way to take advantage of the new found knowledge. Obviously, the swordswoman must be suppressing her own soul wavelength. Whatever the black blood have anything to do with it doesn't matter. She wasn't going to cleanse herself of her sins.

A crazy but intelligent idea popped into the meister's mind. What would happen if some of the black blood gotten into his body? Of course, there was no guarantee that it would affect him. Even if it does he risks the chance of becoming as insane as the girl. However, if she were too accidental try to cleanse his soul…

"You plan on doing something rash and stupid," said Soul as he looked at his meister. Crona nodded. "Well," he said, eyes darting to Maka, "you better be quick about. Whatever keeping our friend busy is dying down." The aura around the gloved hand was growing faint. As the pain subsided, Maka's view of the world rapidly expanded.

Without a word Crona dashed forward. Hearing his footsteps, Maka turned around in time to take a full on tackle. He grasped her by the shoulder and once they were on the ground. His teeth sunk into the base of her neck. Before the blood harden his tongue lap across the wound, gulping down as much of the warm, metallic fluid as possible.

Maka did nothing to stop him. Overwhelm by an odd sensation she sat there, awestruck. Unknown to her and ignored by the scythe meister she moaned a little. Watching the sense from afar, Soul's cheeks glow a light red. Jokingly, he said, "Should I leave you two alone?"

His voice snapped the Maka back to reality. Glancing down at Crona, pure pleasure turned into horror. "Vampire!" she screamed while waving her arms above her head. "Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!"

A gloved fist shot out of her shoulder and slammed into Crona's jaw. The scythe meister let go of the girl, staggering onto his feet. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" screamed Ragnarok as he popped out of the girl's back. Still in a bit of shock Maka stayed where she was. "Look what you done her!"-Shudder- "Damn hormones are going to be out of whack after this."

The demon words fell on deaf ears. Head tilled down Crona's face was unreadable. A small stream of black blood ran out of the corner of his mouth. Getting in between his meister and the swordswoman, Soul held his bladed arm out in defensive position. "Are you ready?" asked Soul, concern lacing his voice.

A hand gently pushed Soul out of the way. The weapon didn't resist but looked to his meister for an answer. A small, sly toothy grin greeted him. Crona's tongue darted out to lick up the blood running down his cheek. "Somebody has been a naughty girl." Soul leapt away from his meister, shocked. The voice sounded like Crona, but never where did that dark undertone come from?

Maka got to her feet; a curious expression crossed her face. Somehow the game had change, for better or worst she couldn't tell.

Glancing to her gloved hand, she gave it a wry look. The glow and pain subsided, but whatever caused it was a mystery. _Worry about it later,_ she thought, _it isn't the problem at the moment. _

"Do you know what happen to naughty girls?" said Crona.

Looking to him, she said in a neural tone, "Beats me."

Two, crazed eyes dominate by the color gray looked up. A sly, perverted smile that caused the swordswoman to giggle nervously stretched from ear to ear. Placing his hands into his pockets, Crona tilled his head up slightly in an attempt to form a friendly pose. If anything it made him more menacing. "They are punished."

Soul gulped. The weapon may not know his meister's personal life all that well but he worked with him long enough to know who Crona was. Whoever stood before the weapon was a complete and utter stranger.

Staring through Medusa, Stein sensed the madness coursing from his pink-haired pupil. Not able to see the fight itself the professor couldn't understand how black blood infected Crona. However, he guiltlessly took more interest in the swordswoman. "Anti-demon soul wavelength," he said with a small smile, "the surprises just keep on coming."

Glancing over her shoulder, an irradiated frown crossed Medusa's face. "After all these years that pesky weed still exists." Turning her attention on Stein, she said, "To make things more interesting it would seem the boy have somehow gotten black blood in his system."

Nodding in agreement, Stein said, "Do you mind telling me how it is possible that the black blood is even stable? By nature her soul should have expel the substance that caused her to go insane."

"True," said Medusa with a smirk, "but let take thing into fact. Like the body, the soul matures over time. It may not always be the case, but usually the older a person becomes the stronger their souls are. So to make sure that the soul isn't a problem the black blood was injected into the girl at a young age."

"Not to say there weren't complainants. The girl fell into a violently ill state which lasted for months. She vomited almost anything she ate and her body siege up for hours on end. As the madness and order fought within her she struggled to survive. I can't say this for certain, but I believe she resisted the madness which in turn caused the illness. It took a little persuasion on my part, but in the end she made the choice to give in. Once she did her health rebounded rapidly. Since then, with a little magic and the girl own will power the anti-demon soul wavelength was kept in check. Over the years I came to believe that it was killed off. Apparently, I was wrong."

"Punish me," said Maka with a nervous giggle. "Yeah right." Extending a hand out, the demon sword formed in her grip.

Soul moved in position so his meister could easily grab him when he transformed. However, Crona gentle shoved him to the side. "Sorry," said the crazed meister as he walked toward the girl, "but your services are not required."

"What," exclaimed Soul as he blocked his meister's path.

"I said you are not needed at the moment. Waltz away and do whatever uncool guys like to do." Crona tried to walk around the frowning weapon only to block again. "Soul," he said, sounding like a parent talking down to an unruly child, "I give you an order." Soul pressed his blade against Crona's neck. Another perverted smiled greeted the stern frown.

"You can't fight her alone," Soul stated.

Shrugging, the craze meister said, "Maybe." He gripped the weapon's jacket midsection and collar. In one swift movement they swirled around one-hundred and eighty degrees to switch spots. Soul inched the blade forward to create a small cut but no farther in fear of harming the meister- the guy before him may not be his partner but it was still his body.

A little too late did he realize why the craze meister took his place. The demon sword slammed into the meister's side, causing him to shake. Dread filled the weapon only to be replaced by confusion. The sword broke the top layer of skin and no more. Glancing to his own blade, he saw a black fluid crawling from the wound.

"Hey!" exclaimed Maka. "Where's the ugly red?"

"Leave the mistress to me," Crona whispered as he pushed the weapon back. Catch between disbelief and uncertainty the weapon didn't try to keep his footing. On his butt he watched his meister turned his gaze on the girl. A simple gesture of a predator discovering it prey.

Startled by the sudden change of the natural order Maka stumbled back into a defensive stance. The meister renewed his slow march, keeping his gazed on her. "Get back," she ordered- the slight undertone of fear catching her by surprise. He silently kept on coming. When in range she took a swing at his head.

Catching the sword by its end, Crona held it with an iron clad grip. Maka pulled on her end to free it, but his grip was too strong. He didn't even move an inch. Then with one strong tug from the other end she found herself staring at the crazed meister's chest. "Why don't we get rid of the sword?" Crona said in a soothing voice.

Completely unsettled, Maka opened her mouth to scream. A hand clamped over her lips, muffling the sound. Crona's hand shock violently, but base on the smile the damage was minimal. He kneed her in the stomach, forcing her to loosen her grip enough that he could yank the sword from her hands.

Examining the blade, upside down, Crona said with a cheeky smile, "Not so scary now are you?" In response the sword bellowed it lungs out in his face. Closing his eyes to protect them, he endured scream and spit for several seconds. A normal human being would have dropped to his knees.

Crona opened his eyes to show irritation before tossing the sword over his shoulder. "Aw!" exclaimed Ragnarok as it spun through the air. It cluttered to the floor several feet behind Soul. "Get over here you fucking pussy!" shouted the sword. "I'll show you what happen to people who toss me to the side like garbage."

While the sword shouted his curses Crona simply said, "That was rude of him." Wiping saliva off his cheek with the back of his hand, he turned his attention on the girl. "Where did she go," he mused. Scanning the area over he added, mockingly, "Don't tell me that the mighty demon swordswoman ran away." When no one replied he took a step forward.

Ducking an incoming fist, he tried to elbow the girl in the knee. She easily evaded the awkward attack. As he got to his feet he said, "Nice to see that the fun haven't ended yet." He turned around to offer a hand. "But why don't we do something different. I heard you went to the DWMA party. By any chance did someone offer you a dance?"

Neutrally, Maka shook her head. "Do you know how to?" Again, the she shook a no. "That's a shame. Can't say I'm the best for the job, but I have done a little dancing. If you like I can teach you."

"No thanks," said Maka as she got into a defensive position, "I rather play tag."

Before she could react Crona rushed her. He forced a hand into her left hand, interlacing with it. The other hand grabbed onto the waist of the gloved hand. "Come on now," he said with a smile that hardly passed for innocent. "It's quite easy to do. Just put the left arm up like this and placed the other around my back." He forced the first hand into place while the second one somewhat comply with his order. Nails dug into cloth once the hand was in place.

Absentminded of the pain Crona said, "Just like that. Now I'll place my hand on your back." His hand "accidentally" grasp the girl's behind. A light blush graced her face from both embarrassment and angry. She slammed her head into his chest. The hand quickly found its proper place. "Didn't mean to do that," he said with a smug smile.

He thrust his right leg forward, forcing the girl to bring her leg back. "Here come the easy part," said Crona, staring into a set of glaring eyes. "You follow and I'll lead." Whatever dance he planned on it never took form. Due to Maka's stubborn nature and the lack of willingness to follow, the dance quickly fell into disarray.

Ever step they took was a battle. If he wanted to go forward the girl would also go forward. If her foot happened to stomp on his he quickly repay the favor. More than once the girl twirled them into a pillar in an attempt to break free. Crona's grip would just tighten more. Maka jammed an elbow into his side and he shinned her in the knee. The chaotic dance carried them across the room with surprising speed- sometime out of the sight of their audience.

Still a little bluffed by what he watched Soul stayed where he landed. His bladed arm long since turned back to normal. With one arm resting on a raise knee he kept track of the two. The first time they went out of sight he forced himself to stay. The crazed meister didn't want nor needed his help. At the moment, the best thing he could do was make sure that a certain loud mouth sword stayed out of the swordswoman reach.

"Maka!" yelled Ragnarok, "Stop dancing with the pervert and come over here. The son of the bitch may have black blood but he's still a male. Hit him in the balls. That should give you enough time." The demon sword had been ranting for five minutes now; it was starting to get on Soul's nerves.

Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "Hey, demon sword, your name is Ragnarok?"

"No, it Mary Sue," said the sword, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Of course my name is Ragnarok. My meister said it out loud several times now."

"Okay than, Ragnarok, do us a favor and quiet down. No one wants to listen to you."

"Quiet down! Who do you think you're talking to? Your soul is good as mine as soon I get over there."

Turning his attention back on the dancers, he said, "Whatever."

"Whatever?" exclaimed the sword. "I'm threatening to eat your soul."

"You're harmless," replied Soul. "For the last five minutes all you done is sat there and yelled. If any harm was to be done you would have done it already."

Without a body the sword could not tremble in anger. However, its lungs worked perfectly well. It screamed its fury to the heavens, nearly bursting Soul's eardrums. Plugging his ears with his pinkies, Soul ignored the sword the best he could. Once it settled down into huffing, he asked, "Tried yet?" Ragnarok didn't reply. Happy that the sword was dealt with Soul turned his full attention back onto the dancers.

"Let go," shouted Maka as she attempted to stomp her dance partner's feet. Use to her timing Crona easily moved the foot out of the way before forcing her to move her foot. "I have enough of this dancing."

"But my dear," said Crona as he lean in close. Maka tried to lean away from him but ended up with her back at an awkward angle and the crazed meister's face just centimeters from her nose. "For a first timer you're doing so well. Can't we keep on for a few more minutes?" They straighten back up while the girl shouted, "No!" The hand on the Crona's back moved away to get some leverage for a punch. A hand tried to grip her wrist but she ripped it away. She sprinted backward in an attempt to free the other hand; only to drag the crazed meister with her.

However, she had enough room to pull a fist back. "Let go," she ordered as she slammed the fist into Crona's face. Since one of his hands held tightly onto hers they both stumbled. When the two stop the girl pulled the fist back for another punch. This time Crona managed to grab her by the wrist.

"Feisty," he said with the perverted grin. Hooking his ankle around her lower leg, he jerked it forward. They tumbled to the ground with Crona on top of Maka. Scanning her over with a lingering look, Crona said, "Just a nice body." Perspiration trickle down the girl's skin as an unease giggle escaped her lips. "Add a little more flesh on the bosom and you would have your mother's figure." Quicker than a viper the girl's mood turned cold. "Sure, you may be a bit taller but still. The resemblance is un..."

Strange how a little angry could bring that little extra strength one needed. Wiggling her arms free, Maka grabbed the crazed meister by the shoulders and shoved him off. Caught off guard, Crona fell away, allowing the girl to crawl from his grasp. Once on her feet, Maka glared down at the meister.

"Are you deaf?" she asked, coldly. As Crona got to his feet the girl pulled a fist back. Unknowingly to her, a light blue aura encased the fist. "Stop comparing me to her!" She wildly launched the attack, caring only that she made connect with flesh. Crona's catch it in his palm and soon enough catch another.

For a few seconds the two stood there, dead locked. Then a triumph smile settled on the crazed meister's face. "What?" asked the annoyed girl. Not long after she said that, the burning pain from early become apparent. Expect this time there a new sensation accompanying it. The feeling itself was impossible to describe but she didn't like it at all.

"You left the door to your soul crack open," said Crona. Somewhere in the back of his mind a spot that was still sane didn't know how this would work. He had no ability to sense soul wavelengths but he could tell that the girl could feel his. Maybe like a door he could barge his way through.

And so he did just that. For several seconds their bodies and souls fought for control.

Normally, resonating with a person's soul who doesn't sync with one own caused damage to both mind and body. Resonating with an insane girl, struggling to break loose of his hold, while her soul desperately tried to close the entrance; almost intolerably painful. Good thing that the madness makes a great anesthetic.

With a small smile Crona said, "I'm coming in."

Maka's mouth open to produce words but stop in mid-speech. In fact, it looked as if someone pressed the pause button. The struggled came to a complete stop; the bodies froze ridged. Though facial and body expression were well preserved, one could tell by the eyes that the two meisters left their bodies behind.

"What did that pervert do to Maka?" exclaimed the sword.

The question on how the sword could see popped into Soul's mind only to be push to the side. Gazing at the frozen pair, he wondered what his meister planned on doing. "Don't take too long," he shouted, "we still need to catch up with the others." He got no response so he sat there and waited for one. All the while the demon sword ranted loudly at the world. *******

His eyes couldn't help but roam the hallway. When the opponent acted like a statue there was little one could do. At first Kid tried to formulate a way to get by the black man. As more of the hallway came into view he unconsciously piece the wreckage back together. _That pillar so be able to attach to that one easily. Then again it could go over there, but how did it end up in that position. _Catching himself in the act, he violently shook his head. _Focus. I can't allow trivial matters bother me. _

Unfortunately for him, once he started he found it impossible to stop. Spotting a statue of a boar like creature with a missing trunk, he thought in disgust, _What in the world is that? It looks like something a person dreams up after eating a bad midnight snack. _Each new object that caught his gaze caused more irritation. "Damn it," he shouted, "stop trying to put everything back together!"

Arching an eyebrow, the black man thought, _Is he trying to put a puzzle together?_ A quick scan of the room showed that no puzzles were about. Yet, the boy was obviously distress over something. His eyes darted from object to object while sweat slid down a nerve-wreaked face. Not seeing any reason for the reaper to be upset, the man shrugged.

"Not good," exclaimed Liz as she and her sister started to panic. "Kid is thinking too much on symmetry. If something doesn't take his mind off it soon. He's going to have a mental break down."

"Yahoo," shouted the assassin as he run the reaper over. Stopping several feet in front of Kid, Black*Star stood tall and pride as if presenting himself to an eager crowd. "Worry not my good friend," he shouted, "the amazing Black*Star is here to save the day."

Trample into the ground- face first- Kid felt anything but thankful. Pushing himself up on his hands, he glared daggers into the assassin's back. "You idiot," he angrily shouted, "Which side are you on?" The assassin glanced over his shoulder with a confuse look.

Liz stared in disbelief while Patty sighed in relief. A slim smile appeared as Liz said, "Thank you Black*Star. That certainly did the trick."

Looking to the man standing in the middle of the hallway, Black*Star asked, "Who's the half-naked guy?"

Anger quickly cooled into a serious demeanor as Kid got back on his feet. "I have yet to acquire a name so I'm not entire sure. However, don't underestimate him. Something is protecting him. If we work together… Black*Star! Wait!" A hand reached out to grasp empty air.

Dashing forward with the ninja sword out in front, the assassin shouted, "By the time I done with this guy. He'll be begging for mercy." He leapt forward and sliced downward at the man's torso. The man took a quick step to the right. The assassin soared right by him and landed in a crouch. Spinning rapidly around, he struck out for the lower spine.

Instead of sinking into the flesh the blade bounce back. Before the man could twist around the assassin was on his feet. By the time he made a full revolution a barrage of attacks rained down on him. Never staying in one spot for long the assassin hacked away once or twice at the man before dashing to a new position. However, he soon figured out the problem Kid faced early. Not a single strike drew blood. To make it more frustrating the man never raised his arms in defense. He took the blows without a care while he tried to match Black*Star's speed for speed.

After several minutes of this the man came to a halt. Standing completely still, he allowed the assassin to hack away at him. With good timing he stick his arm out in front of Black*Star, catching him by the stomach. Air and spit flew from the assassin's mouth as the man threw him to the ground. A fist raise into the air to finish the job, but a hail storm of bullets slammed into his back.

Rushing forward, Kid screamed at the top of his lungs. Neither bullet nor reaper frightened the man but held his attention long enough for the assassin to crawl away from immediate danger. Several feet from the man the reaper stopped firing to let loose a round house kick to the torso. Like before all it did was bounce off.

He barely had time to let an attacking fist roll over his chest. Before another fist could be launch the chain of a kusarigama wrapped around the man's arm and the kama hooked around the upper arm. Single handedly Black*Star pulled hard on the chain, just managing to keep the fist from moving. The man glanced over to the assassin and the moment he did Kid's started firing once more.

Ignoring the bullets, the man turned around and grabbed the chain with both hands. With a small tug he pulled the assassin off his feet. As Black*Star lost his footing the man rapidly spun around. The chain grew taut. Black*Star flew a foot above the ground, just the right height to slam into Kid.

Knocked off his feet the reaper joined the fast, circular ride that kept on going faster and faster. If the enemy hadn't been doing this to them Black*Star would had enjoyed himself. Kid on the other hand clenched his teeth together, bile threatening to spew out. Either way the two kept on going in circles.

The man showed no sign of dizziness or stopping. Through his soul wavelength, Black*Star send Tsubaki a message. Mentally nodding, the weapon waited for the right time. Three-quarters in a revolution the kama and chain loosen its grip. Just as the man complete the turn the meisters and weapons flew down the hallway, away from the Kishin.

Landing with a thud, the meisters groaned. Being the one on top, Black*Star was the first to his feet. His back throb with pain but other than this he was fine. Turning toward the man, he tried to dash off but Kid grabbed him by the ankle. "He just threw us across the room," he stated. "Now isn't the time for rash decisions."

Out of stubbornness the assassin planned to argue. The slow clapping of hands kept it from happening. "Bravo boys," said a familiar feminine voice. Both meister looked to the speaker.

Sitting down on a stump of a pillar with legs crossed, Alice grinned at the two while clapping. Her weapon lend on the stump while Po perched on her right shoulder. "So tell me," she said as she put her hands down, "have you figured out the servant's trick yet?"

"How long have you been sitting there?" asked Kid as he stood up.

"Trick," exclaimed Black*Star as he rushed over to the girl, "what trick?" Forgotten for the moment the man retook his old position.

Peering around the assassin to look at Kid, she said, "Not long. I got here when this idiot got hit in the stomach." She stood up, grabbed the ax's handle, and walked forward. Taking flight, the raven flew over to a nearby pillar to rest upon. The assassin tried to say something but she shove pass him while dragging the ax head across the floor. Stopping beside Kid, she pointed a finger at the man. "See anything out of the norm?"

Kid cocked an eyebrow for he wanted an answer. However, the emo didn't say anything else. Turning his attention on the man, he stared intently. Both his normal sight and sixth sense scanned for anything that could be called strange. Due to the Kishin's wavelength it was difficult to describe the man's soul.

First glance told him little. The soul before him was relatively powerful, colored light yellow, and scarred from terrible experiences. Then he noticed something odd. It blended well with the rest of the soul, but the tortoise shell necklace had it own soul wavelength. This confused the reaper for inanimate objects can't possess souls.

"It's an amulet," said Alice as she heaved the ax over her shoulder "may not look like much but that piece of wood is keeping him alive." Kid shot her a questioning look. "Lord Death hadn't told you about them. Not surprising, considering he doesn't take most things seriously."

"I know what an amulet is," said Black*Star as he appeared behind them. "They are objects that lesser man believed to have magical powers."

Without looking, the emo lightly slapped the assassin with the back of her hand. "I wasn't asking you," she said as Black*Star stared blankly forward, "but you're right. In most cases an amulet or a talisman- the name depend on the culture- are powerless to influence anything. The necklace around that man's neck, however, is enchanted."

"Some humans with powerful souls have the ability to control small amount of magic. Not enough to do anyone harm, at less, by themselves. If a human somehow win the favor of a witch or warlock he might be given a gift. Though amulets in general are falling out of popularity, Asian warlocks, Native Americans medicine men, and Voodoo witch doctors are commonly known to hand them out."

"By putting a small amount of their soul into an object a witch can enchant it, giving it a magical property. With an amulet a human with a powerful soul would be able to perform one powerful spell or many weaker, but still deadly ones. The type of spells depends on the witch's soul, but I'm certain that you two found out early he's using a protection spell."

She took a step forward- a small smile took form. "That doesn't mean that the guy is invincible."

"You think you could break his defense," asked Kid as he and Black*Star got into an offense stance.

"You're weapons weren't meant to hack things apart." Glancing at the two, she said, "While I keep him busy, run past us and catch up with the enemies in the front." Before either could protest, she added, "Don't worry about me,"-the smile turned sadistic- "just make sure our bland world stays that way." Without warning she dashed forward. The other two meister delayed only a second before following.

Falling into an offensive stance, the man knew he couldn't stop all three of them. All he hoped for was to distract them as long as possible.

As Alice neared the man she grabbed the ax with both hands and lifted it over her shoulder. Swinging it diagonally, she struck the force field protecting the man. However, unlike the previous attacks the ax slowly cut downward; yellow sparks flew as it went. Bewilder, the man took a step back. As the ax dropped Alice pulled it back and threw it against the force field once more.

Too distracted with the emo the man could only watch the other meisters rushed on by. Kid paused momentarily to receive his skateboard from the nearby rubble but quickly got on it to trail behind Black*Star. "Damn it," whispered the man as he jumped back.

Getting into a defensive position, the man stared Alice down. Holding the ax diagonally to her body, the emo examined the man. "The name's Alice," she proclaimed, "but everyone call me Alice the Butcher. What do people call you?"

"Ekundayo," responded the man.

"Well, Ekundayo, I have no idea why an African from halfway across the world is trying to cause the apocalypse. In all honesty, I really don't care." The sadistic smile reclaimed it place. "What does matter that you're threatening to plunge the world into madness. That a big no-no and since I'm the only meister who can deal with you..."

Launching forward, she put all her might behind the attack. Sparks flew as the ax cleaved cleanly through the force field. Ekundayo jumped backward only to dodge a strike to his head. Stopping for a moment, Alice blood lust eyes stared the man down while her tongue licked her lips. "We're having turtle soup tonight," yelled the emo. Desire for bloodshed motivated her forward once more.

Though he didn't show it, fear played at the black man's heart. For he knew a true demon came to claim his soul. And he wasn't sure if he could prevent her from taking it.

* * *

><p>Sistine: How many of you actually thought we're going to kill Soul? Really, if we do that we would have to kill Crona who is one of the main characters in this story.<p>

Kence: Writers had killed main characters before.

Sistine: True, but than the story would be shorter.

Maka: Geez, this story almost have twenty chapters.

Sistine: Yep and who's know how many more there would be.

Crona: I don't know if I like where this is going.

Sistine: Too bad because we're enjoying the ride. As for the reader, do us a favor and review. Good criticism, flames, and comments are welcome and needed.


	21. Chapter 20

Sistine: *Sistine, Rainbow Dash, Patty, and Alice sat at a table. At the center of the table a crystal ball rested it a golden bowl. Sistine waved her hands over the ball.* Okay everyone. Are we ready to contact the die.

Dash: Bring on the ghost!

Alice: Let see the fraud at work.

Patty: As ready as I'll ever be!

Sistine: Alright then. Everyone start humming. *The three girls stared to hum an eerie tone, though Alice did it with half closed lids.* Oh great crystal ball! I seek an audience from the great beyond. We don't care who you send just send us someone to talk to. *To the earthly audience surprise a image started to form in the crystal ball. A cellphone appeared.*

Crystal ball: *In a polite female voice.* We're sorry but the dead is currently unable at the moment. Please leave a message and the next ghost will haunt you as soon as possible. Beep. *The girls stared at the ball in disbelief.*

Dash: That was anticlimactic.

Sistine: *Throwing arms into the air.* For God's sake, how can every ghost in the after life be busy. There must be billions of them with nothing better to do. *Sighing.* Well, I hope the readers enjoy the chapter more then we enjoy this.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty<p>

Warm. He felt unusually warm. Why, he couldn't tell. Darkness shrouded his eyes, leaving him blind. Crona would have found this strange if something else hadn't already preoccupied him. The ground beneath him felt soft, brittle. As if dry grass brush against his skin. That couldn't be possible for he was in a stone room, struggling with the demon swordswoman.

Speaking of the girl, he wondered what happened to her. One moment he had her in his grip and the next he winded up…where ever here was. If he could find a light source he should be able to figure out the where part. "It might help if you open your eyes."The crisp voice sounded like the girl but something about it was off.

"My eyes aren't close," Crona said out loud. The voice didn't response. Having no better ideas, he opened his eyes. "Never mind," he muttered. Staring upward, gray clouds threatening to rain filled his vision. Het up on his elbows and scanned the skies in hope of seeing the sun. Instead, the clouds obscured the entire sky.

A light breeze blew a strand of hair into his eye. Pushing the strands away, he took a good look at his environment. Tall, yellow-brown grass blanketed leveled ground. Off in the distance a scrawny tree bear of leafs stood in solitude. For what seemed like miles Crona watched the earth disappear into a gray horizon. To him it looked as if he was teleported onto a prairie.

Getting to his feet, Crona stared at the emptiness before him. The high pitch squeak of floor boards drew his eyes over his shoulder. Turning around to get a better look, Crona gazed curiously at the structure before him.

A wide, two story house, might even be consider a small mansion, stood not quite a hundred yards away. Time showed no mercy to the structure. Holes the size of his head dotted the chipped, weathered, blue painted walls. The right side of a small porch collapsed inward. Planks covered many of the smash windows on the first and second floor. A red brick chimney missing enough bricks to be seen from here poke out of the roof. Large chunks of the roof tiles had been ripped away. The house appeared to be long abandon but on the top floor in the last window-glass intact- on the right. A light was on.

As Crona looked the mansion over a cold depression descend on him. He knew that the mansion caused the change of mood. Due to this he felt little need to get close to it. However, a small voice at the back his mind egged him forward. Taking one last look of the surrounding area, he saw he had little choice. With the lack of civilization the mansion was his only hope on figuring out what going on.

"Better get going," he said just to make some noise. Except for the soft breeze the world was absent of sound. The crunching of grass joined in as he walked toward the porch. As he near it the uneasy feeling of being unwelcome started to grow. Glancing over his shoulder, he didn't see the eyes that scorn him.

"Nerves," he muttered.

Climbing onto the porch, he cautiously placed his steps. With each step the rotten floorboard groan as if an iron weight dropped onto them. The part of the porch that collapse partly covered an unpainted door but not enough to keep it inaccessible. Grabbing the knob, he gave it an experimental twist. Too his surprise the door clicked open.

"It is rude not to knock." Crona span around, raising his arms up in defense only to find no one there. Walking toward the porch's edge, he searched the immediate area. Unless the person sprinted to the side of the house they couldn't have hide. Base on the coolness of the voice she doesn't sound like the type to run away.

He stood there a few seconds longer before returning to the door. This time he banged his fist against it several times. On the fourth knock the door creaked open. Nobody asked him to enter but he said, "Pardon me," before grabbing the knob and push it in.

Walking in, he had to duck to avoid bunking his head against a beam. As he closed the door behind him he wished the lighting was better. Candle sticks resting in holders attached to the walls provided light for the short, narrow hallway. It took him a dozen steps to enter a large room. Beside the single, wooden staircase, which had no railing, pressed against the eastern wall the room was empty. No pictures hung on the walls or any furniture and luxury items lay about. Three empty door frames invited people snoop around. No hint of personality told a lot or little about the current owner.

Dust kicked up by his feet tickled his nose. Waving the dust particle away, Crona moved toward the staircase. If there was any chance of finding life it would be on the second floor. As he climbed the steps his heart beat quicken. Someone down below was watching him. Glancing over his shoulders, he spotted the cause of his anxiety.

A blonde woman in her mid-thirties stared at him with yello eyes; the indifferent expression reminded him of snakes. Wearing a lab coat over a black shirt and tan pants, she seemed ready to go to work. "What are you doing in my house," she demanded.

Putting on an apologetic smile, Crona said, "I'm lost and the skies outside look ready to rain. Seeing your home, I came in, hoping to find someone. I knocked on the door but it open by itself. Forgive me for my rudeness. I truly thought that this place was abandoned."

Narrowing her eyes, the woman said, "As you can see it is not." For several seconds an awkward silence fell between them. The neutral expression never left the woman's face. However, her eyes seemed to gauge the threat level that Crona might be. Finally, a gentle smile that never reached the eyes crept onto her face. "I'm feeling charitable today," she proclaimed. "So feel welcome to stay a little while. You may explore the mansion. Just be careful not to disturb the other residence. Several of them are a little aloof and would appreciate being left alone."

With that said she turned her back on him and walked off into another room. It didn't escape Crona's notice that the floorboards were silence under her feet. Once she was gone he released a breath he didn't know he held. "Isn't she a gracious host," he muttered as he climbed the stairs. Like the room below the hallway showed no signs of human temperament. Plain doors spaced several feet from each other lined the walls but no decoration once so ever. Walking down the hallway, he strained his ears to hear a noise of any sort.

If a person lives in a house one expected some sort of sound. Even when the residence became quiet the home itself provided the noise. It may be a simply creak from the walls, ticking of a clock, air flow in a vent, or a background static that appear only when all was quiet. But no, the house played dead.

Forcing himself not to quicken his pace, he kept on walking till he reached last door to the right. This should be the room which he saw the light from outside. Hopefully, that meant a person was inside it. After the meeting with the snake woman he prayed that this person had a kinder demeanor.

As soon as he got to the door he grabbed the knob. Twisting it, he found it to be lock. Frowning, he let go of the knob to press an ear against the door. It was hard to hear, but a young girl was talking to someone on the other side. Knocking on the door, he shouted, "Excuse me, but would you mind letting me in?"

Either she didn't hear him or ignored him for he stood there for a minute without a response. Pushing off the door, he looked at the knob. "Is that a keyhole?" Bending down to get a better look, sure enough a keyhole was underneath the knob. Nobody would put that there unless they wanted to keep people out or seal someone within.

Straightening back up, he turned around to leave to stop in place. He blinked several times to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks. In the short time he tried to get into the room someone filled the hallway with paintings without drawing his attention. He walked forward, feeling quiet unease.

Glancing at the pictures as he went, he wondered what sick sense of art the owner of the mansion had. It almost as if the Artistic Kishin sold a special series of her paintings. In the pictures, people of all sort met a grizzle end by a black blade. The location and number of people change from image to image but the fear etched onto their faces remained constant. _They never stood a chance,_ Crona thought. After the fifth picture he had his fill of gore and kept his eyes on the hallway before him.

Staring straight ahead as he walked, he pondered on his next plan of actions. He still wanted to get into the locked off room so finding the key would be a good start. However, without help he would be extremely luck to stumble upon the wanted item. He could seek the assistance of the snake woman, but had little desire to do so.

Train of thoughts and steps came to a halt when he stepped into a wet substance. Perplex, he looked down at his shoe. Stumbling back to a comfortable distance, he stared at the crimson pool with disgust. "Blood," he whispered. As he stare at the pool it slowly but surely grew in size. A quick scanned of the area reveal the source of disturbance.

Flowing over the frame, a steady stream of blood poured out from the painting. If the paintings were vivid in detail early they now looked life like. In this one a young brunette, in her mid-teens, scrambled away, on her hands and knees, from the incoming blade. Near impossible to do in a long, purple dress.

An overwhelming sense of fear told him to walk away, but an equally powerful curiosity propelled him to take a closer look. As he neared the painting he thought he heard fingernails scrapping away at cloth. Since the girl was the subject of the image he focused on her. For a split second the girl's eyes seemed to move, but that could have easily been an illusion.

A sudden impulse to touch the canvas overcame him. It was irrational but he felt the need to do so. Cautiously, his fingers reached out just to brush it. Brushing the paintings with his fingertips shouldn't do it any harm.

With fingers centimeters away from the canvas he stopped. Glancing up at the painting, his cheeks paled a little. Without a doubt the girl turned her gaze from her tormentor and onto him. Crona move to pull his arm away, but an oily hand shot out from canvas and gripped him by the wrist.

Eyes grew wide from shock as Crona yanked his hand away. The oily hand ripped off from the arm, clinging to him with a death grip. An impossible amount of blood poured out of the hand and arm. Crona's free hand gripped the ripped hand by the wrist and tried to pull it off. For the first few pulls it refused to budge but one strong yank tore the palm off, leaving behind the fingers that loosely cling on. He threw the mangle hand away and frantically wiped the broken fingers off.

Looking to the painting, he recoiled back in horror. The brunette stepped out of it! But unlike painting one of her hands were obviously missing. Dry, mummified skin clung tightly to the bones. Two empty sockets replace her eyes while cracked teeth and gaps filled her mouth.

Taking a several step back, Crona turned halfway around before running into something. Forced to take a step back he looked to the object. A chef in a tattered uniform stood over him with a clever in a bony hand. Stopping for a second, Crona scanned the area over. From every painting withered corpses climbed down from their display. Based on their movement they planned on converging on him.

Without a second thought Crona sprinted for the stairway. If he had any chance of survival he would need more room then the hallway provided and some form of weaponry. As he went he evaded the corpses' attempts to siege him. Wasn't hard to do for they move about in a larch. Some of them leapt at him, but he easily evaded them, leaving the corpse to struggle to its feet. The few that stood in his way were shoved to the side.

_Almost there,_ thought Crona. A yard away from the staircase a corpse built like a body lifter stepped into his way. Turning his shoulder at it, Crona planned on running it over. Instead, he bounced off the corpse's stomach, stumbling into a door. Back to the door and an increasing horde of corpses in front of him, there was nowhere to go.

Sweating bullets, Crona's thought, _This can't be happening! This must be a dream! _Yet he knew this was no nightmare. Whatever the corpses wanted he doubted he would like it. Glancing to the door behind him, he searched for the knob. The jet black metal stuck out like a sore thumb. Grabbing it with both hands, he quickly twisted it and pushed in. To his immeasurable delight it opened.

Not caring what may be on the other side Crona rushed in just as the first of many hands reached to grasp him. Inside the room he got on the other side of the door and slammed it shut. Several corpses tried to push their way in but their appendages got catch in the door. With one last hard push Crona broke the limps loose and shut the door. As the victims banged against the wood he locked it.

Gradually, Crona took his weight off the door. When it showed no signs of giving in he turned his attention onto the room. Compared to the rest of the house the room was well kept. A few holes in the walls were boarded up and the floors smell musty but the room was dusted. A queen size mattress with a bundle of blankets piled on it lay in the middle of the room. Pressed up against the right wall a simple desk, accompany by a stool, held stuff that one would normally call junk. Hanging above the desk from pegs, a long, black sword pointed at the door gleamed in the candlelight. In the opposite wall was a door that might lead to freedom.

Walking over to the door, Crona gave the mattress a second glance. Expect for the blankets nothing rested on it. He opened the door without a second thought. "You got to be kidding me," he said as he stared into the closet. A few black suits hung from wire hangers but no exit leading to a safer place.

As Crona pondered on his next move he heard the rustling of bed sheets. Tensing up, he cursed himself as an idiot. With the room occupant waking up and corpses outside the room he efficiently trapped himself. Of course, he could always make a dash for the sword but a quick glance over his shoulder told him otherwise. Sitting up on the bed was a bear of a man.

Clad in a wrinkled black suit one could see the muscle bugling under the cloth. Long, black shaggy hair covered the right side of the man's face, blinding him to everything on that side. This may be the only reason Crona had gone undetected. "Damn zombies," grumbled the man in a deep gravelly voice.

As he stood up Crona quickly and quietly ducked into the closet. The sound of the door closing drew the man attention, but made dunce from drowsiness he shrugged it off. From inside the closet Crona kept completely still. His breathing settled into quiet whispers while his heart beat at his chest. Ear pressed up against the door he listened to the man talking to himself. "So the agenda of the day; Take care of zombies' asses, go harass the girl, get something to eat, and wonder around the house in search of something to do. That sounds about right."

Wood sliding across wood told that he was at the table. "Geez, they are aggravated today. Wonder what got them so piss." Footsteps echoed throughout the room. "Strange... I don't remember locking the door. Oh well." A few seconds of silence followed. Then the man let out a mighty shout, "Here I come, pussies!" Cries of agony and malicious laughter ensured.

Taking this as his cue to leave, Crona quietly sneaked out of the closet. Thankfully, the man left the door open. Peering around the door, he spotted the man gleefully hacking away at the courses, slowly heading away from the staircase. Without drawing attention, Crona crept over and down the stairs.

On the bottom step he sat down to rest. Taking in a deep breath, he ignored the racket up the stairs. "Great," he said, "what do I do now?" One thing for sure he wasn't going back upstairs any time soon.

"Over here," shouted a feminine voice. Looking to his right, Crona catch the glimpse of a black shirt disappearing around the corner. "Come this way," said the voice as footsteps grew fainter. For a moment he stared at the empty space. The scene before him brought on a strong sense of déjà vu. He wasn't sure where he seen this but vaguely remembered that it didn't play out well. After a few more seconds he shrugged.

Getting to his feet, he put his hands into his pockets. "Following ghosts," he said, chuckling. "Compare to everything else this should be uneventful." At a languid pace he walked into the next room. Didn't get to see much of it- there wasn't anything to look at any way- when the voice said, "Come down here." In this manner Crona obediently followed the specter deeper into the mansion. As he went he scanned the rooms he passed through for any signs of danger. The dust he threw up with every step cause him to sneeze profoundly but on the line of things that can threaten his life. Can't be harm by empty rooms.

And the emptiness started to bug him. It was one thing to have a couple of spare rooms set aside until needed. Humans with personalities, however, tend to fill their homes with objects meaningful to them. Even the poor can managed to give a little life to their dwelling with things they collected over the years. Yet, the clothing of the current occupancies doesn't strike him as poor. So why would so many of the rooms go unfurnished?

"We're here," said the specter.

Ahead of him and around a bend a door creaked open. Going around the bend, Crona came to face a door. Left slightly ajar, light from an electrical source poured from the crack. At the door he put a hand on it and gently pushed it open. The creaking alerted whomever inside of his intrusion. Two steps later he stood inside a small library.

At less, he assumed it was a library. Bookcases that touched the low ceiling lined the walls. Many of their shelves laid bare for the books were scattered among them. Some of the books stood up while other lay on their sides. In the middle of the room sat a chair; it's red, plush cloth worn from excess use. Opposite of it an ebony door- locked by a bolt- break the bookcases line. A bright light bulb hung from a cord, providing more light then one would think.

Unlike the other rooms the library had been cared for. A water stain in the ceiling and a fist size hole in the floor near the chair testify to the mansion true conditions. Yet, everything in the room had been dusted. The books on the shelves seemed to be organized and holes in the chair had been sewn over with mismatch pieces of cloth.

Walking over to the chair, Crona expect someone to be sitting in it. He was only mildly surprise to find it void. "Only one way in," he said out loud. Going over to the bookcases, he randomly picked the books up. To his disappointment no secret passage way revealed itself. Putting the last book back in it place, he thought, _That leaves me the other door._

How the specter walked in and locked the door on the other side he couldn't fathom. Then again, if paintings can come to life than locking doors should be a simple matter. At the door he examined it over for anything out of the norm. Whoever painted it had a strange taste for colors but nothing scream dangerous. Gripping the bolt, an icy wave of bitterness washed over him.

Grimacing, Crona jerked his hand away, wildly shaking it to rid of the feeling. Several second later it subsided. _I'll take that as a warning,_ he thought with a cynical smile._ Unfortunate for me, I don't have much of a choice. _Gripping the bolt, he quickly slid it out of place. The same bitterness came again but this time he was able to brace himself. With the lock dealt with he moved to open the door.

Fingers centimeters from touching the knob, a voice said, "If you value your soul don't open that door." Freezing in place, Crona slowly turned his head around. Sitting in the chair, Maka gazed down at a novel, cradling it in a hand. Moon shaped glasses perched on her nose. A solemn expression covered her face.

Bringing his hand to his side as he turned toward the girl, Crona asked, "Don't you mean value my life?"

"Nope," she said. For a few seconds there silence was between them. With a nod of her head Maka marked the page she read by creasing a corner. Snapping it shut, she said, "Didn't want to lose my place." She put the book on the arm rest as she stood up. Turning her attention on the boy, she gave him a small smile. "Did you bump your head when you entered my soul?"

"Excuse me," said Crona, a little baffled.

"Memory lost," Maka stated as she shook her head, "Side effect of the black blood." With a chuckle she added, "So much of my memory is a haze. If it wasn't for Ragnarok half my life would be a blur." Spotting the tension in the Crona's shoulders, she rolled her eyes. "Relax. I have no intent once so ever to harm you."It took several seconds but some of the tension left the shoulders.

"Who are you," he asked, bluntly.

"Technically, I'm Maka," said the girl as she looked to an empty bookcase. Walking over to it, she searched the shelves as if something was on it. "To be more exact I am the part of her responsible for logical reasoning." She laughed. "Out of all of us who lives here the true me keep my company the less."

"Here being as in Maka's soul," said Crona, eyes following the girl.

"Yep." Maka stretched her legs to reach the top shelf. As she patted the shelf, she said, "Coagulation on invading the mansion. I'm a little surprise that Mother is allowing you to roam freely. Probably thought the mansion would take care of you. Almost did if I haven't intervened." Wrapping her hands around a small, hardback, she pulled the book down.

"I'm guessing that whatever behind that door isn't friendly," said Crona, glancing to their new topic.

"Yes and no," said the girl as she examined the book dusty cover. Taking in a breath of air, she blew onto it, blowing dust into the air. "The person who occupied the basement come and goes whenever she pleases. At the moment she isn't down there but she knows when someone entered her domain. If you opened that door... You'll live but you probably wish you hadn't."

"Mind if I take a seat?" said Maka.

"Not at all," said Crona as he turned his attention back on the girl.

Sitting down, the girl opened the hard back to a page. "If you wondering if I'm the one who lead you here," she said as she pulled the book to her face. "The answer is no. The culprit is currently amount us but the brat won't show herself."

"I am not a brat!" shouted the specter. Spinning around, Crona thought he heard the specter right behind him.

"She isn't there?" asked Maka. Crona nodded. "One can never tell where she truly is. The nuisance of an entity is just like me- another part of our host. She represented the childish side of Maka. In all honesty, she isn't a mean spirit but due to the madness she loves insufferable, cruel jokes. And you almost become the butt end of one of them."

Looking over the book, she said, "But enough about me, let talk about you. For starter, why did you follow me here?" When Crona didn't answer she said, "Please do away with the shyness. I want to help you. Why? Let me put it this way."

She leapt onto her feet and in several large steps cover the distance between them. Face to face with Crona, she said, "A sound soul resides in a sound body and a sound mind. It may not be word for word but the meaning is clear. My host is lacking on all three accounts and I am wary of this. Liberation or annihilation, it matter little to me. Just make sure that the solution is final."

A small smile crept onto Crona's face. "On the second floor there's a bunch of doors. The last one on the right is locked. Have any idea where the key is?"

Taking a step back, Maka sighed. "I should have known you want to get into her room. Not like you got much of a choice. She particularly volunteered to be locked up." As she put the hardback away, she said, "There are two keys. Doesn't matter which one you use, but getting to either will take a different approach."

"The first key is with mother. She keeps it on her personal self at all times and only take it out when needed. The second key belongs to Ragnarok." Seeing the confuse expression on her face, she explained. "Have you happened to see a big guy walking about?"

Raising a leveled hand over his head, Crona said, "Seven feet tall, stocky build, and like to carve painting zombies to pieces."

"That's him. You two already meet?"

Shaking his head, Crona said, "A chance encounter."

"Well, as I was saying Ragnarok have the second key. Don't know where he keeps it but knowing him he probably hid it under his mattress- the oaf spent half his life sleeping on it. Between stealing from Mother or Ragnarok it depend on the situation. However, I think we should try the later then the sooner first."

"We?" asked Crona with a raise eyebrow.

"Do you know where Mom usually hangs out?" She was answered with silence. "Thought not. Out of the two of us you would rather have me as your guide."

"Hey," yelled the specter, "I can lead him as well as you can!"

"Without getting him kill."

Chuckling, the specter said, "Good point."

"Let get on with this," said Crona, shaking his head in disbelief. "The sooner I get into that room the sooner I can get out of this crazy house."

"Mansion," stated Maka as she followed behind Crona, "and you're inside my soul."

Not bothering to reply Crona led them through the house for the first dozen feet. He soon became lost and without a word ceded the lead to the girl. With the pace of a person who knows the place well she walked through the halls with little hesitation. As they went Crona glanced about to make sure that no pop-into-existence furniture appeared. The halls were as barren as the first time he came through.

Within several minutes they reached the second floor. One look at the hallway caused Crona become queasy. If he hadn't known better he would have thought a massacre have taken place. Blood painted the walls and floors while random body parts were scattered far from their bodies. He quickly turned his attention onto Raganrok's door.

The door was crack open. Carefully, they push it away to peer in. Sitting at the desk, Ragnarok stack a pile of limb into a log cabin. They couldn't see his face but the low, irradiated muttering told that now wasn't a good time to sneak in. Crona closed the door while the two crouch behind it.

"Think you can lure him out?" asked Crona.

"Maybe," said Maka, shrugging. "Back in the real world I could never get him come out when I wanted him to." She grew quiet for a few second before adding, "If I were to take his sword I can probably get him to chase me. He'll never be able to catch me and by the time he grew tire of the chase. You should be able to search the room over."

"Not the greatest plan in the world," stated Crona, "but probably the best we got."

"It simple enough," said Maka. "Go into the room, grab the sword, and lead an angry oaf to another part of the house. It doesn't take a genius to fool Ragnarok." Snickering, she added, "I once trick him into believing that mouse droppings were raisins."

"Really," said Crona, a doubtful smile creeping onto his face.

"In his defense the droppings I showed him did look like raisins. It didn't take long for him to try one."

Crona muffled a chuckle by clamping a hand over his mouth. Once it settled down he said, "Nice to know we're dealing with a meat head. So where should I hide."

Pointing with a finger, she said, "On the right side of the door will do. He'll be too preoccupied with me to notice you. Just give me a minute and you'll be inside the room soon enough."

"So what should I do?" asked a gravelly voice.

"Ragnarok, you'll sit at the desk and play with the limbs while I..." The two schemers tensed up as they looked up. Towering over them in the door frame, Ragnarok's black eyes stared down at them, a twitching eyebrow accompany an unsettling smile. Two, dark scars, crossing the other at the bridge of his nose, formed an X on his face. In one hand he held the sword the, flat end of the blade resting on his shoulder. A nervous smile appeared on Maka's face. "Hey there big guy. You wouldn't mind letting us borrow your key to Maka's room?"

Ragnarok nodded his head. "Start running," he ordered as he lifted the blade. Bolting onto their feet, the two schemers were halfway down the stairs before he gave chase. For the next half of dozen minutes they stormed through the mansion, making enough noise to raise the dead. Brandishing the sword in the air, Ragnarok howled, "Get back here cowards. Let me show you what this oaf can do."

Coming to an intersection, the two schemers split off in different directions. Ragnarok paused at the intersection for a moment to decide on which prey to pursue. Maka may have been the one who insult him but he could actually take his wrath out on the intruder. So he went after the Crona.

Down the hallway Crona heard heavy footsteps behind him. He made it around a bend into a dead end. No other hallway converged with the one he entered and a single door at the end of it provided the only hiding place. With little time to find a better hiding spot he sprinted for the door. Running into it, he gripped the knob, turned it, and shoved the door open. He nearly slammed it shut as searched for the lock. Founding the bolt, he slid it into place and stepped away from the door. If Ragnarok tried to hack his way in he doesn't want to offer him a lucky hit.

Staring at the wood, Crona waited. Rapid, heavy thuds settled into an slow pace. For several seconds the footsteps grew louder. They suddenly came to a stop. Seconds stretch into minutes until the footsteps started again. This time they grew fainter and as fast as Ragnarok came he was gone. A minute later Crona dared to sigh.

If the footsteps were anything to go on Ragnarok left him along. Then again the man might be trying to trick him into thinking that and waited quietly outside the door for him to walk out. Based on what Maka said intelligence wasn't Ragnarok greatest feat. Reasoning, however, belong to all animals. If Ragnarok knew the path Crona taken he could easily figure out that he had nowhere to go.

Not feeling the need to test his luck, Crona looked to the room for another escape route. "My lucky day," he muttered to himself. The first and only time he been inside Professor Stein's house it strike him more as a research faulty then a house. Stein would feel right at home in this room.

Long fluorescent tube light bulbs illumined the room. The harsh smell of chemical floated in the air. Tables filled with science projects- a few looked to be complete while many left undone- littered the chemical stained, cement floor. Wires and cords screwed into place crossed the walls in a spider web like fashion. A handle less, door engraved with two cobras wrapping around one another stood in the left wall.

Cautiously, Crona advance into the room. Glancing at several of the tables, he felt comply to take a closer look. Many oddly shape steel object that seemed to be design for torture were scattered about. A ball of electricity without a visible mean of power source or container suspended over a table by an invisible force. On one table, cage rats long neglected behaved in odd manners. One of the rats tried to scale the horizontal bars while another stared dumbly into space.

Without knowing the point of the experiments Crona couldn't evaluate the meaning of it all. However, he doubted the betterment of mankind was a factor. "I wonder if this lab belongs to..." He doesn't know the name of Maka's mom. "...to the Doctor." Stopping at one of the tables, he picked up a syringe. In the glass tube a black fluid that had long separated into layers floated idly.

Putting it back down, he looked to the snake door. For the first time in his life he wished he had soul perception. Whatever mystery held behind the door could easily be revealed. It could be where the Doctor kept snakes as pets or it could be her sleeping quarters. Speaking of the Doctor, he somewhat hoped that she happen to be here. Would make the need of tracking her unnecessary.

He walked over to the door. A quick examination showed no visible mean of opening it. Pushing it with a hand did nothing. As his eyes wondered over the wood they came over the snakes' heads. Nothing about them was special, just a triangle with a single eye and an open mouth showing off a fang.

All of the sudden the snakes' eyes glow a piercing violet. Startled, Crona stumbled back while putting a hand up in defense. The snakes stayed in place but the door slowly slid open. Ducking under a nearby table, Crona watched the Doctor walk out of the door. Reading a paper on a clipboard, she went over to one of the tables. She selected a contraption from it, examining it with a keen eye. With the Doctor busy Crona sneak out from under the table in a crouch and entered the next room.

What he found looked to be an office. A desk covered in paperwork was pressed against the far wall. A metal folding chair in front of the desk was pulled away from it. Two white bookshelves with thin, sliding glass doors pressed up against the right wall. A long, wide aquarium- it's residence a python- sitting on top of a dresser was opposite of the bookshelves.

Going over to the desk, Crona rummaged through it. Yes, he remembered what Maka said but maybe the keys, for whatever reason, were placed on the desk. Sadly, this wasn't the case. At the bookshelves he had even less luck. Sealed off by an impressive pad lock one would think the books held high values. Several more minutes of searching of the room proved fruitless.

Admitting defeat, Crona moved for the doorway. However, as he made for the door the Doctor started this way. Still busy with the clipboard she hadn't spotted him yet. Retreating back into the room, Crona hid behind the dresser. Not too long after he crouched down the Doctor came in.

Muttering under her breath, she sat in the chair. As she scoot it up to the desk she place the clipboard on it. Bowing her head, she lean over and rubbed her fingers against her temples. "It doesn't make sense," she said to herself. "Everything is performing properly. The black blood should be responding. There must be a problem with..."

While she talked to herself Crona examined the woman's clothing. In all there were four pockets- two pant and two coats- where she could conceal the key. He didn't see a string around her neck so she wasn't hiding it between her breasts. Unless the woman had a strong case of paranoid she wouldn't feel the need to place the key in any odd places.

The talking creased. Getting to her feet, the Doctor walked over to one of the bookcases. From the right lab coat pocket she pulled out a set of keys attached to a small key chain. After flipping through a dozen keys she inserted the right one into the lock. Opening the lock, she removed it from place, put the keys away, opened the glass door, and searched through the books.

As quietly as possible Crona creep up to the Doctor. In reaching distance, he stretched his arm out and oh so careful place his hand into the coat's pocket. A couple of fingers loop around the ring and quickly pulled them out. For a moment he felt sure that the Doctor would notice. However, not feeling any pressure she kept on viewing the book's covers.

Silently walking out of the room, Crona waited until he was out of sight before standing up. A triumph smile crept appeared as he raised the stolen prize to his face. Examining the keys, he wished he paid attention to which one the Doctor used. It would have narrowed down the trail and error process a little.

He put the keys away in a pant pocket. Walking toward the exit, he heard the door behind him close shut. He gave it a quick glance which turned into a puzzle stare. Either his imagination gone into overdrive or one of the snakes, the wood, was blackening. The snake provided him the answer when its head smoothly ripped off away the door. Eyes colored like that of amber stared him down. A pink forked tongue darted out of its mouth, sampling the air. As it peeled off the wall it grew in length. By the time its tail hit the floor several tables laid on their sides and its bent head glaze the ceiling.

Gawking, Crona take a step back from the colossal serpent. It sat there, flicking its tongue in and out. Crona glanced to the exit. Quiet curses escape his lips for the door was lock. Keeping his gaze on the serpent, Crona calmly- as calmly as one can be with a giant snake in the room- walked backward. When his back met the door he fumbled for the bolt and moved it to the side.

Gripping the knob, Crona slowly turned it, waiting for the serpent to respond. It kept its place, staring harshly at him. He pulled the door slightly open. Tension quickly overcame the serpent's body as its slit pupils expanded slightly. "Not good," Crona shouted as he flung the door wide open. On his heel he spun around and dash down the hallway. A sharp hiss filled the air as the serpent pounce. The doorway was far too small for it to fit through so it impervious by creating a new entrance.

Skidding to a stop to make the turn, Crona just started running when the serpent collided into the wall. The collision did little to slow its rapid advance. With the help of adrenaline Crona kept out of the serpent's mouth, if only by a few feet. Frantically, he tried to redraw the path he took early in his mind.

Whoever hanged the paintings up on the second floor thought it proper to fill the hallways. Furniture of all sort decorated with bowls, candles, and dishes barricaded the halls. Crona tried to maneuver around the obstacle with ease. He slid under tables, jumped over dressers, and toppled chairs as he went. The serpent plowed on through, crashing everything under it great mass.

While jumping over one of the tables, Crona's foot snagged the edge. He, the table, and the table's contents toppled to the floor. He got to his knees but it was already too late. Only centimeters away from engulfing him the serpent moved in for the kill. Out of the corner of his eye Crona spotted a light. Without hesitation he reached out and gripped a candle metal holder holding several lighted candles. He wildly threw it at the beast, entrusting luck with his life.

The hot wax and flame struck the serpent straight in the eye. Rearing back, its massive head crashed through the ceiling as a hideous hiss echoed throughout the mansion. On his feet Crona sprinted away. Several seconds were bought but they didn't last. Crashing down, the serpent bared it fangs- its burnt eye plastered with wax. Anger renewed it vigor, launching it forward, trashing the walls as it went.

Crona breathe heavily when he finally came upon the stair. Sprinting up them, he nearly trip when the serpent slammed onto the steps. Unlike the hallways the narrow staircase provided little room for the serpent to climb. Didn't mean it would give up. Lunging itself up the stairs, it flatten several steps with each lunge.

Quick to get back on his feet Crona made it up the stairs. With his eyes over his shoulder, he didn't notice Ragnarok until he ran into him. He stumbled back a little confuse which quickly gave way to dread. Sword in hand the man looked down at him with a reptile smile. "Hey buddy," said Ragnarok, "what took you so long?"

Before anything could happen the serpent burst through the stairwell, crashing into the nearby wall. The floor shook violently nearly taking Crona's feet from under him. Ragnarok stood like a rock his eyes now glued on the giant serpent. "Not again," he shouted furiously as he shoved Crona to the side. Glad that the man had a new distraction he allowed himself to be push around.

"Stupid snake," shouted Ragnarok, "do you know how long it took last time to repair all the damage?" Bringing it head around to face Crona, the serpent paid the man little attention. "Listen to me, salamander! If you don't turn back right now I'll make a set of leather boots out of your scaly hide." The serpent tried to push through Ragnarok but he would have none of that. The sword lashed out, cutting a shallow wound across the serpent's snout. It backed off while hissing angrily. "That's right. I'm not afraid of you."

While Ragnarok dealt with the serpent Crona sprinted toward the last door. He brought out the keys from his pocket and looked through them in hope of narrowing the search process down. Unfortunately, the keys looked too similar to distinguish. At the door he quickly jammed the first key in. "No," he muttered before moving on to the next key.

Back with Ragnarok he kept the serpent at bay, though it wasn't because he scared the colossal. Lifting it head up, the serpent spotted Crona where it was trying to prevent him from going. It opened its mouth; Medusa's voice flew out. "Ragnarok, you fool!"

"Medusa," said Ragnarok, cocking an eyebrow. "What with the giant snake get up?"

"Never mind that," the snake roared, causing the man to flinch. "Get out of my way before the meister get into that room."

"What?" shouted Ragnarok as he turned his head. Growing impatient of his stupidity, the serpent swung its head at him. Knock from his feet Ragnarok flew through the wall. His head slammed into the next wall, knocking him out almost instantly while leaving a good size dent in the wood.

The serpent charge forward, cranking it mouth as wide as the hallway would allow. A loud hissed alerted Crona of its coming. He glance to the side, saw the serpent advancing rapidly, and hurried up with his work. Already seven of the twelve keys were deem useless. The eight proved just the same and with the serpent barreling down on him. Crona forced his hand to keep steady to insert the ninth.

Though Crona was certain he wouldn't be able to check all the remaining keys, he was beyond the point of feeling fear. As the serpent drew closer he methodically entered the next key. Again, no good and if the next one didn't work... No need to ponder on the thought.

Maybe a dozen feet away from Crona the serpent let out another hiss. Ignoring it, he inserted the key, turned it, and then attempted the knob. He felt the latch gave way. Throwing his weight onto the door, it swung open and not a second too soon. The serpent soared on by, eating a mouth fill of wood, insulator, and whatever else one could find within a wall. Crona slammed the door shut and move to lock it. There was no lock. Not like it would have done much good against a massive serpent in the first place.

For the time being the snake was probably the less of his worries. Short of tearing the mansion apart it would be difficult for it to get into the room. Right now, he was more concern with the fact that the door knob stood over his head.

"What the..." he said only to clamp his hands over his mouth. Taking his hands from his lips, he said, "Testing. One, two, there." Yep, his voice wasn't his own. Higher in pitch and tone it sounded as if he inhaled helium. Catching a glimpse of his hands, he stared at them in disbelief. Pardon the canniness but they were three sizes too small.

Crona checked the rest of his body out. He doesn't know how but he regressed into a five year old. To his surprise he wore a green baggy shirt accompanied by tan shorts and sandals. Of course he wore other clothing but this was his usually outfit at that age. Scratch that, it was the outfit he wore at his current age. Wanting to focus on something else he turned his attention on the room.

It looked as if he walked into a normal five year old room. Light yellow wallpaper decorated with cartoonish white bunny rabbits and baby ducklings covered the walls. Pictures in square, gold metal frames hang from the wall. Toys laid scatter on the carpet floor. Pressed up against the right wall a large rectangular box painted white with pink flowers edging served as a toy box. A neatly made bed sitting on a wooden frame was pressed up against the wall opposite of the toy box. Directly in front of the boy a square window allowed sunlight to filter in.

And standing on the toes of black shoes a little girl right about Crona's age gazed out the window. She was dressed in a single piece black dress the pointed skirt had white diamond sewn into them. Ash blonde hair barely brushed her shoulders. Noticing a different in her room, she turned around to gaze at the boy with emerald green eyes. No signs of malnutrition were apparent and she gave him a prefect pearly white teeth smile. Though it seemed unlikely, Crona knew that the little girl before him was the demon swordswoman, Maka.

Laying her feet flat on the ground, Maka turned about and hopped over to Crona. Just inches away she examined him with a thoughtful expression. "Hello," chirped the girl, "I had never seen you here before." She leaned in a little closer, invading the little personal space she hasn't already taken. "Mind telling me your name?" The closeness between them made the boy uncomfortable but it wasn't the reason he looked down at his shoes. For the first time in a long time he felt shy around a person. Muttering, he said something incoherent. The girl tilled her head to the side to hear him better. "Please repeat that."

"Crona," he said a little louder, "my name is Crona."

Grinning, the girl took him by the hand and shook it rapidly. "Nice to meet you Crona. My name is Tiffany Marcus Da Vince."

He knew that was a lie but Crona humored the girl. "Really?"

"No," she said, stressing the O, "but it sound so much cooler then Maka."

"Can't argue with that," said Crona, smiling.

As quickly as she came she bounced over to the toy box. On her knees she started to grab random objects from within it. She gave each toy or board game- in its box- a quick examination before shaking her head and tossing it over her shoulder. Not caring to take aim a few of the toys nearly hit Crona. Pausing from her search, she glanced over her shoulder and asked, "Do you like playing games?" She sounded uncertain as if the question just occurred to her.

Walking up to Maka, Crona said, "It depends on the game." Right beside her he got onto his knees and looked into the toy box. Half of its contents had been thrown away. Spotting something of interest, Crona reached in and grabbed a box by the corner. Pulling it out, he gave it a quick look over- a picture of a game of chess was printed on it. "How about this?" he asked, showing the box to the girl.

Maka's light up like a firework as she exclaimed, "You play chess?"

Shrugging, he said, "Not on a regular basis but enough that I know the basic." Before another word could be uttered the box vanished from his hand. Crona stared at the void with a perplex look. The sound of objects made from different material scrapping together drew his attention. Already clearing a space large for the two of them plus the chessboard, Maka placed the chess pieces onto the board. At first Crona wondered how she moved so fast but he left it as another oddity of the mansion.

Approaching the clear area, he looked the chessboard over. Time fainted some of the squares while several of the game pieces were chipped. However, all the pieces were on the board and recognizable.

Setting the last piece in place, Maka asked, "Black or white?"

"Black." Sitting down on the side of the board with the black pieces, Crona nervously glance over his shoulder. Any moment now he expected either Ragnarok or the Doctor to barge in, threatening his life. Yet the door remained undisturbed.

"Your turn," said the girl with a serious tone. Turning his attention back on the board, he saw that the girl moved a pawn two square forward. Crona moved his knight in front of a pawn and a few move later he find himself in a pickle. Without losing a piece the girl maneuver a bishop, queen, and knight into position so he couldn't help but sacrifice his pieces. Several more moves later he tipped his king over.

Throwing her hands, into the air, Maka cheerfully shouted, "I win!"

A pouting Crona crossed his arm across his chest. "Lucky."

"It called skills," said Maka, putting her arms down. "Play me again and the outcome will remain the same." He took the girl up on her offer. As predicted she beat him in the same number of moves. The frustrated frown on the Crona's face turned Maka's triumph smile into a worried expression. "We don't have to play this game. There plenty of others games that give both of us a fair chance."

Noticing the fear, Crona said, "This game is fine. I'm just wondering how you're so good at it."

"I taught myself," said a smiling Maka, thrusting a prideful thumb at her chest. "I had to. Chess is the only game Mother will play with me and she is great at chess." The thumb fell as she looked to the ground in sorrow. "It took me awhile to find a way to beat her. She doesn't like to lose."

"You're mother the only person you play with?" said Crona with a thoughtful expression. "Isn't there anyone else?"

Shaking her head, she said, "There's Ragnarok, but he's a big meany."

"So there is no one else to play with?"

"Not until you came." Getting to her feet, Maka walked over to the window. Crona followed her. At the window the two stood on their tippy toes to see outside. Out in the front yard shadows shaped into children ran about in great joy. Based on their movement they were playing a game. "Mom never let me go outside," explained the girl. "And never let them inside. She said that it they would never understand me. That it is for the best."

She leaned on the frame, resting her weight on it. "She probably right," she said in a sad tone, "but I like to watch them. It's kind of strange that they're so happy. I sometime wonder what it would be like to join them."

"What keeping you from doing so?" Maka shot the boy a confused expression. Shrugging it off, he said, "Never know what it like till you try."

"I guess," she whispered. Biting her lips, she asked, "but what if they don't like me?"

"What if they do?"

"The door is usually locked."

"I unlocked it when I came in."

"Mom wouldn't like it if I were to leave without her permission."

"It couldn't hurt to go outside. That is _your_ front yard. What the worst that can happen."

Plopping down on her feet, she spread her arms out into a rough oval. "A flying saucer abducts me and the aliens run crazy experiments on my body." Crona arched a skeptical eyebrow. Looking away from Crona, she crossed her arms while saying, "It could happen."

"Sound like you're scare," stated Crona.

"I'm not scared," she protested. The silence forced her to admit, "Maybe a little."

Offering her a hand, Crona put on a friendly smile. "Want me to escort you outside. Can't say I like to be around a lot people but I can handle myself quite well." For a moment she refused to acknowledge the hand. However, curiosity got her to look at it.

"Promise to watch my back?" asked Maka.

"Cross my heart and hope to die if I don't." After a few more second of doubt the girl hesitatingly put a hand out. Crona's hand met her halfway and they entangled fingers. Giving her an encouraging smile, he said, "Let go." With a gentle tug he led her to the door. Took some carefully placing of feet to cross the mine field Maka created but they had no problem with getting to the door.

Just as they reached the door it slammed open- the knob punched a hole clean through the wall. Standing in the door way, the Doctor stared at the children with narrowed eyes, obviously displease. Maka hide behind Crona while he glared at the woman. "Mom," squeaked the girl, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to remove the boy," the doctor said, coldly.

"Does he have to leave?" asked the girl her voice a little stronger. "He just got here and ..."

"I was about to take Maka outside," said Crona, doing his best to sound tough. Hard to do when one have the body of a five year old. "That shouldn't bother you too much."

"Do you think that taking her outside the mansion will make a different?" asked the Doctor. "Her soul belongs to me. Whatever it is in here or out there it makes little difference. Now be a good little boy and leave now before any harm is done."

Crona kept his place. "Don't make me come in there," said the Doctor, a menacing smile coming onto her face. Paired with a couple of golden snake eyes the threat hardly sounded like a bluff. However, Crona didn't even flinch. "Fine, be like that. It will be more interesting this way."

Sticking an arm out and palm forward, she said, "Vector arrow." An arrow shot from her wrist, heading straight for the Crona's chest. Crona threw himself to the side, bringing Maka with him so the arrow wouldn't pierce her. He tried to scramble to his feet, but a hard blow to the stomach sent him flying over the girl. Crashing into a pile of toys, the air rushed out of him as he tried to wrap his arms around his stomach. Toys jabbed into his back but he was absentminded to them.

Placing her feet back on the ground, the Doctor said, "Foolish boy. Should had left when given the chance. Now held still and accept your fate." She raised her hand to shot another of her arrows. Something wrapped around her leg caused her to pause. Glancing down, she saw Maka wrapping herself around a leg. Tears poured down her checks as she shouted, "Leave him along! He didn't do anything wrong!"

"He invaded our home" stated the mother, monotonously.

The doctor shook her leg to loosen the girl grip, but she held on. "So that gave you the right to kill him! He just a little kid!"

"I can't have you running about with someone I hardly know." This made no sense to Maka and the lack of emotion convinced her that the boy would die no matter what the reason.

"Why are you just a jerk," she screamed. "Why is it that I have to be imprisoned in my own house?"

"It's because I love you dear. I don't want you to get hurt."

Words that would usually bring comfort sparked an inferno. "Lair," she screamed as she jerked away from her mom. In her newly from grip the demon sword appeared. "You never love me." Before the Doctor could blink the sword dug into her midsection. Sliding it out, a chilling pleasure filled Maka as the blood spill onto the floor.

Maka looked her mother in the eyes; the heartless smile that formed weakened when she saw nothing but darkness starting right back at her. Dressed in her modern clothing the used to be Doctor was replace by an older Maka. Beside the eyes she looked just like the real person. "You shouldn't have done that," she said, gravely. She then faded into a black haze so thick that it appeared to be a void where it floated. It darted out of the room, slamming the door shut behind it.

With the entity gone Maka dropped the sword and run over to Crona. Helping him to his feet, she asked, "Think it is over?"

Before he could answer the floor quaked. At first slightly but quickly escalated into a violently shaking. Toys hopped across the carpet while one of the pictures fell from its hook. Somewhere within the mansion a loud screech that sounded like a Scream Alpha tore through the walls. Hugging each other tightly, the children tried their best to keep their footing.

As soon as it came the earthquake left. Once the ground settled the two loosen their grip on the other. "That was strange," stated Maka as she run over to the window. Looking outside, she found everything except for the clouds as it should be. Lighting laced the clouds but no thunder roared. "We never get earthquakes out here."

Crona nodded, but said nothing. From out of nowhere a brilliant light blinded his right eye. A hand shielded his eyes as he turned to see where the light came from. Slipping through the door cracks, a brilliant white light sliced through the electric lighting. "Maka," said Crona in a panicking voice. "Something is trying to get in."

A loud bang echoed behind the door and sent it flying into the wall. There was little time to react. Light flooded the room, engulfing everything in it glow. Crona tried to scream but the silent roar of the light obliterated his voice. As the world turn white he sense the present of an angry spirit. A spirit who been suppress for far too long.

Seven minutes had pass and Crona had yet to move. To say Soul feared for his meister was a grave understatement. Ragnarok stood beside him- early, Soul agreed to stand the sword up as long if he kept quiet – silently hoping that Maka would be alright. If the girl doesn't come out of the comatose state he was stuck as a sword for the rest of his short life. Not a fate even he would bestow onto the worst of his enemies.

When a blue aura encased the meister Soul jumped to his feet. The glow lasted for a dozen seconds before fainting away. Walking up to his meister, Soul got ready to assist. "Maka," shouted Ragnarok, "time to wake up! We got souls to harvest." Soul kept quiet, watching his meister's eyes. They would tell when Crona return.

After what felt like an eternity, life returned into the blue pools. No word could explain it properly but they were no longer glassy, empty. Focus summed it up the best. Once the eyes become focus they blinked.

Without delay in body movement Crona loosen himself from the girl and bolted onto feet. As he rose he grabbed Soul by the wrist. "Move," he simply said. In a short sprint they headed for the nearest pillar. "No time to explain," said Crona as they got behind the structure, "but let just say I got a feeling that we should keep our distance from Maka."

Soul rolled his eyes. "Seven minutes of soul bonding and already the two of you are on a first name basis." Ignoring the remark Crona peered around the pillar to watch the girl. With a shrug the weapon peered around his meister. At the moment the girl was on her knees, body and head sagging forward. "I'm guessing something is wrong?"

"Already forgotten what happened early?"

"If you're talking about the glowing hand, I haven't."

The two fell into silence when Maka staggered to her feet. In a jerking motion she walked over to Ragnarok without looking up. "Finally," said the sword as its meister neared it, "took ya long enough." Getting no response, the sword mentally cocked an eyebrow. "Earth to Maka, is anyone home?"

At the last foot the girl's knees buckled from under her. Her hands managed to grasp the sword's hilt and it does not like the feel of them. "Why are your hands clammy?" Instead of answering she vomited onto the sword's base. Even if Ragnarok felt to need to keep a tough appearance he couldn't help but be completely disgust. "Gross," it exclaimed.

"Get inside me," wheezed Maka. It sounded as if a great weight pressed down on her chest.

Disgust turned to genuine worry. Say what one like of Ragnarok but he truly does care for his meister. If she were to die he dies with her but it goes a little deeper than that. Living with- within- a person for most of one life will forge a strong bond. The bond between the two was unorthodox but it was certainly there. Though Ragnarok would rather die first then admit it.

"What is wrong with you?" asked Ragnarok.

A weak smile formed on her face. "It feels like I'm dying," she said in a shaky voice. Lifting her head up, two sane, cheerful eyes gaze at the weapon. "Strangely enough, I think someone cheated me. Now do us both a favor and get into my body." Without a word the sword dissolve into her bloodstream.

Forcing herself not to fell into the vomit, she climbed onto unsteady feet. She turned to her left and took several steps forward. Coming to a stop, she tried her best to keep her equilibrium. If standing was a labor then trying to get her eyes to focus was a task of Hercules. The world faded in and out, becoming pitch black to crystal clear in short intervals. Raising her hands to her face, she watched them disappear and reappear right before her eyes. That was the last coherent thing she did before the pain came.

Felt as if her entire body, from head to toe, had been submerged in boiling water. Every muscle, every cell burned. Shrill screams pierce the air. Stumbling about, Maka ripped away at her skin in hope of soothing the pain. She bounced from pillar to pillar blindly. In fact, almost all input to her brain was blocked out. No sight, no taste, no smell, no hearing, no feeling just the pain that would bring anyone to their knees, bawling.

Watching the sight with a mix of fascination and horror, Crona and Soul felt they should do something but knew better. They were powerless to help.

None of them could have known the whole truth. After so many years of being suppress the anti-demon wavelength lashed out at the madness with a passionate vengeance. Where ever the madness resided it would obliterated it at the site. However, the madness lived in Maka's blood. The substance that not only makes life possible, but also traveled throughout her body, leaving not a single cell uninfected by the madness.

The immense pain wasn't the wavelength fault along. Like any living entity the madness fought for its life. If one could see the her veins they would see the flood of black blood cells running into a wall of light. Some of the cells burst on impact while others turned a natural red. As soon as the intact blood cells pass through the light they would run into black plasma. They would absorb the plasma and once again turned black. In this case, the two opposing forces were suffocating the body. However, not a single cell was safe from the attacks.

Maka screamed herself hoarse. Black streaks of harden blood shined through claw marks. Bruises started to form on her back and sides. She exhaustion slowed her pace but she kept on stumbling about..

Then, without warning, she collapse. Landing on her side, one arm stretched out in front while the other lay beside her. Glassy eyes stared out in the distance; the images in them went unseen.

Coming out from behind the pillars, Crona and Soul stared at the body. "I think she's dead," said Soul.

"Only one way to find out," said Crona. Walking up to the body, he crouched down and placed his index finger and middle finger onto the pressure point in the neck. A weak, but steady pulse throbbed. "She alive," said Crona as he pulled his hand back, "barely."

Coming up to his meister's side, Soul said, "Should we finish her off?" The meister shot him a disapproving look. Shrugging, he said, "Okay. Not the type to kill defenseless girls. So what do we do with her?"

A soft whimper emitted from Maka. Crona waved his hand at Soul in a shooing motion. Nodding, the weapon went to a nearby pillar, out of sight, to lend on. As he put his hands in his pockets he turned his attention on his meister. After mouthing a thank you to the weapon, Crona put on a smile as he faced the girl.

Her eyes fluttered open. She tried to push herself up but quickly fell back onto the ground. "Careful," said Crona, "you don't want to hurt yourself." Turning her eyes onto Crona's face, she was greeted by a friendly smile. Her lips tried to form words; a pitiful squeak came out. "It alright," he said in a soothing voice, "I'm not going to hurt you."

It took some effort but the girl managed to croak out, "Then what are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "Help you I guess. Need anything in particular."

Hearing no ill will in his voice, she said, "Wouldn't happen to have some water and a bottle of pain killers?" Crona shook his head. "Please say yes or no. At the moment I can't see much of anything."

"Gone blind."

"Not completely but seeing the world as a gray blob isn't much better."

"Sorry, but I left my medicine back home."

"Does that mean you got some water?"

"Nope."

Wheezing out a sigh, she closed her eyes and laid her head on the floor. "If nothing else can you move me into a more comfortable position?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Crona shouted, "Mind giving me a hand?" Soul shot the girl a suspicious look. "Soul, she blind, can't move, and look like hell. Do you really think she kill us out of spite." The weapon shook his head but kept his place. "Just get over here. If it makes you feel any better I'll take her by the shoulders."

Reluctantly, Soul walked over to the girl's feet. Once there he crouched down and waited for his meister. "Maka," said Crona, "we're going to roll you onto you're back." She grunted in acknowledgment. Placing a hand onto the end of her midsection, he gave her one good push. With a groan she rolled onto her back. Going over to her head, he looped his arms under her armpits. "I got a held on her."

Grabbing Maka by the ankles, Soul said, "Same here."

"On the count of three we lift. One, two, three." With one good heave the boys lifted her into the air.

"Wow," commented Soul as they headed to a nearby pillar, "she light." Maka muttered something about abusive mothers being great for losing weight. Getting her to the pillar was easy. Getting her to sit up without any help on her part was a bit tricky. Yet they managed to adjust her body so she could recline against it.

"Thanks," said Maka without looking at them.

"No problem," said Crona as he and Soul stood up. "Do you mind being left alone?"

She chuckled which soon turned into a harsh coughing fit. "Don't worry," she said as soon of the coughing stop. "Even if I wanted to leave I can't. Damn body quit on me."

"Alright then," said Crona, "once we take care of the kishin we'll come back for you. Until then take a nap. You could use the rest."

"Promise to visit me in whatever cell the reaper keeps me in."

The sudden question catch Crona off guard but he was quick to reply. "Right after school I'll come and check up on you."

A small smile formed on Maka's face. "I was kidding. As for the nap, it doesn't sound like a bad idea." Resting her chin on her chest, she fell asleep with a smile.

"Come on Soul," said Crona as he turned toward the exit. "We got to catch up with the others." With a smug smile the weapon transformed. With the scythe in hand Crona sprinted forward toward the prison of the Kishin.

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><p>Groaning, a five year old Maka pushed herself up. "Why does my body hurt," she asked the world. Opening her eyes, she gazed down at a green, grassy floor. "Wait a moment," she whispered. "There's no grass in my room." Springing onto her feet, she surveyed the area. To her disbelief she was standing in a grassy field. "I'm outside," she said quietly. Louder and with more cheer she shouted, "I am outside." The second taste of the words felt better than the first. Smiling broadly, she chanted while jumping in place, "I'm outside! I'm outside! By god, I am outside!"<p>

Running about in circles, she laughed at her good fortunate. She kept on running until she tripped and fell into the grass. Undaunted she rolled about, enjoying the sunlight kissing her skin. Coming to a stop, she looked at the sky. Without a cloud in sight the huffing sun burned brightly in the heavens. Flopping back into the grass, she continued to roll about as she laughed her head off.

Not too far off stood the remains of the mansion. Large, gaping cracks divided the walls. The roof was completely gone and pieces of wood and brick littered the ground. Surprisingly, the porch still stand but the door leading inside had been smash to splinters. Inside the house brunt marks shaped as slash marks covered the walls. Parts of the stairs collapse. On the second floor light spilled in from the newly made sun roof. Every door was smashed in, leading into blacken rooms.

In fact, the only room spared from the destruction was Maka's. Standing by the window, a dark haze and a blinding light stood side by side, watching the girl play outside. However, the light seemed a a bit dimmer and the darkness a little less hazy. For several more seconds the two entities endured each other company. The haze left first, heading to the basement. The light soon followed, claiming one of the second floor rooms as its own.

As it left a new picture appear on the wall. Place between that of a smiling Medusa holding a hand and that of a tabby kitten. The image of a pinked-hair child playing chess added a little more of a homely feeling to the mansion.

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><p>Sistine: Hope you guys enjoy the read. *Turn to the girls.* Have anyone got the ball working.<p>

Dash: *Stare at it in confusion while Patty poke at it. Alice leaned back in her seat, watching the two with mild interest. * How do you work this thing? It a piece of glass.

Sistine: The thing came with instruction. Go find it and see if it can help. *Shaking her head.* So much for spiritualism. Anyway, as for the readers, please review. Good criticism, flames, and comments are always welcome.


	22. Chapter 21

I know. Not only is this chapter late it is far shorter then usually. Sorry about that, but it just sort of happen. Still, I hope you guys enjoy the read.

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><p>Chapter Twenty-One<p>

"The black blood is settling down," stated Stein, "and it would seem that Crona is leaving as the victor." The professor may seem heartless, but the knowledge of his student beating the demon swordswoman filled him with pride. Some of the pride could have come from Spirit for the weapon was brimming with it. Whatever it may came from both the mentor and the father mentally congratulated the young man.

With an indifferent stare Medusa looked over her shoulder. "Worthless," she muttered before facing the professor.

"It would seem that the demon swordswoman survived the cleansing," Stein commented.

Facing the professor, she gave him a small, cynical smile. "If nothing else she is resilient." Her gaze turned to the ceiling. "Not like it matters anymore. She had fulfilled her purpose. The boy won't be able to make it in time to stop the Kishin's revival."

"You will be surprise what a student of DWMA can do," said Stein as he got into stance.

"Maybe," said the witch, "but I'll be more impress if given a demonstration of this strength you speak of."

Stein dashed forward, swinging the scythe at the witch. With a smirk she flipped onto one hand to evade the blade. She spun on the palm, her foot lashing out. Stein dodged by stepping back. This allowed the witch to flip onto her feet. Again the professor rushed forward only to end up more frustrated than the last attack. Bless with agility the witch easily dodge each swing. Once or twice she sneaked in a kick between all the evading. Some were blocked while others found flesh.

Jumping away from the witch, Stein breathed heavily, holding the scythe in his right hand. Medusa stared at him in boredom as if asking if that was all he got. _I need to finish this_, thought the professor. Throwing caution to the wind, he drew his left arm back and sprinted forward. Spiritual energy built up in his open palm. The air crackled as sparks flew from the hand.

Medusa held her ground, smirking as she raised her hands into proper position. "Multiple vector arrows!" Multiple arrows shot toward Stein. He made no attempt to dodge them. They tore away at his body but none of them struck a vital area. So Stein charged on, an angry roared emitting from the throat grew louder as he neared the witch. A little to late Medusa realized that the professor wasn't stopping.

The charged hand slammed into the witch's stomach, sending a strong wave of soul wavelength into her body. A spray of blood flew from her mouth as she bent over. Unaware of the multiple of wounds Stein focused on the witch.

"You finally managed to hit her," Spirit stated grimly, "but you took on too much damaged for so little gain." Stein ignored his weapon. Raising the scythe, he ready it to deliver the finally blow.

Medusa raised her upper body, smiling smugly at the professor. "Too slow," she said. By mentally command the witch's pointed tail rose up and strike. Before it plunged into the professor's chest the tail came to a sudden halt. Frowning, the witch tried to propel it forward. It did not budge.

Took her all of two seconds to figure out what was wrong. She looked down at her body. "Soul sutures," she stated. Thin, white threads run up and down her skin. Looking up at Stein, she found the same threads running parallel to the real ones. Just like her he hadn't budge an inch from his spot.

"There are sutures running throughout your body," said Stein, his voice strained, "paralyzing the muscles. You are completely immobilized."

"True," said the witch, "but you're also immobilized." Smirking, she added, "This is a dangerous game. As soon as the sutures wore off one of us is going to die. The only question is who is quicker?" Stein did not answer. Instead, he stared her down, waiting and hoping for the right time to strike.

While Stein worried about timing, Spirit concentrated on the sutures. As the witch hinted at performing this little stunt was risky. It took all of the weapon's concentration to maintain the sutures on this large of a scale. If he were to lose focus for even a second his meister could die. So he did his best to ignore the world and focus on the sutures.

Stuck in a battle of time and luck the two patiently waited for the other to slip up.

Another pile of rubble fell under the mighty swing of the ax. If Ekundayo has been a second slower the right half of his torso and his head would be severed from his body. For some time now the African barely kept out of the ax's reach. Not an easy fact considering that nothing seemed to stop.

Once or twice Ekundayo managed to strike Alice down with his fists. The dry, crusty streak of brown going down her chin, the developing bruise on her cheek, and the formation of a black eye testified to the damage she took. However, she would not stay down. She would simply get back on her feet, smiling that demonic smile. Then the chopping would renew as if the blows she took were nothing.

Jumping above a swing, he came down on the ax head, pinning it to the ground. He drove a fist into Alice's stomach. A upchuck of blood prove he done damage, but the smile stayed. The girl's fist- the one with the rings- crashed into his face. A metallic taste filled his mouth as a few teeth shaken loose. He took a step back, bringing half his weight off the ax. This was enough for the emo to yank the weapon from under him.

Ekundayo stumbled back. Alice watched him regained his footing, looking like a cat toying with a mouse. "Come on Ekundayo," she taunted, "there got to be more to you then fists and that amulet." Her words did not angry him.

He reached for a piece of rubble, grabbing a huge slab of stone. Effortlessly, he tossed it at the emo. Alice sidestepped. The slab crashed to the floor, shattering into many pieces. "Really," she asked, glancing to the stone. As she turned to face the African she spotted another stone heading her way. Just in time she ducked and avoided decapitation. "Threw as much stone as you like," she said as she turned to glare at the man, "it isn't going to help..."

By some unseen force pieces of rubble floated into air and gravitated over to the African. They revolve around him counterclockwise while he just stood there. An intense yellow light encase the African's necklace. Stern eyes stared the emo down. His mouth move but the words that came out weren't understandable.

He then tilled his head forward. By the wordless command the rubble shot forward. "Jane," Alice shouted. Without a word the weapon transformed. Just as the first of the barrage was about to hit her she swing the quickly formed machete at a chunk of stone. She cut it in two, the pieces falling to the ground while the rest of the barrage honed in.

She dodged a second stone, but the third slice her in the side. More and more pieces of rubble kept on coming her way. Evading them the best she could, she slowly moved toward the African. Just as she got neared him one of the pillars broke away from its base. It fell into her path, nearly crashing her. Alice threw up an arm to shield her face as dust and shards flew into the air.

For the moment the dust blinded two. This allowed Alice to duck behind the pillar and not be seen doing so. The next wave of rubble flew over her head, soaring for a good distance before crashing to the ground. For the next few seconds the rubble harmlessly flew by, but she knew this wouldn't last. Once the dust settled she would be mince.

"Clair," Alice whispered to her weapon. Again, the weapon transformed. Lying on her stomach, the emo examined the wide gap between the pillar and the floor. She then turned her hand vertically.

Positioning the hooks just so, she whispered, "Extend." The rods shot between the African's legs. Alice jerked her arm to the left and toward her. The hooks buried into flesh, causing the African to yelp out in pain. With one strong tug he fell to the floor. The hooks tore through his leg, taking large chucks of flesh off. He collided to the floor and the necklace glow lessened. Pieces of rubble fell with him, several nearly struck his body.

Once the rods returned to normal size Alice got onto her feet. She quickly picked the flesh off the hooks, tossing them to the ground for Po to enjoy. With the last piece of flesh removed the weapon turned back into a machete.

Alice tried to climb over the pillar but failed. She looked to the nearby piles of rubble, but quickly dismissed the notion. Their slopes were too steep and unstable.

"Want to do a soul resonance?" Alice asked her weapon.

A shiver run through Clair's back. She does not like resonating with her meister. Imaging stepping into a cold, sunless world where every second thought was of death and pain was a synonym for happiness. Of course, her own soul would counterbalance the coldness but she never enjoyed the experience.

"Ready when you are," said Clair.

In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, Alice said, "Soul resonance."

As meister's and weapon's soul merge a menacing black light emitted from the machete. The blade's edge grew thinner, sharper. Three symbols- that of Alice's rings- appeared on the blade side, blazing bright crimson.

Grinning, Alice said, "Butcher delight." Quicker then a blink of the eye she carved the pillar up. At first nothing seemed to happen but when she finished. Part of the pillar disintegrated into fine dust. The two new pieces of rubble crashed to the floor, shaking the immediate area.

Though in great pain, the African refuse to be beaten. He slowly stood up one hand cradling his aching head. Spotting the emo, he got into a loose stance- the need to fight slowly being override by the need to run. A bead of sweat slid down his cheek and he gulped down a mouthful of spit. That blood thirsty expression the emo gave him screamed death. Mother may not like it if he fled before he knew if the Kishin was release but his life was being threatened. She would understand.

Alice dashed forward. She took a wild swing at him and he easily evaded. However, a split second later he felt pain piercing his right shoulder. Glancing to it, he was startled to find a shallow, but long cut wound seeping blood. "I don't need to make connect," said Alice as she took a second swing. This time when he evaded he didn't feel pain but he heard the pile of rubble behind him collapse. "I just have to be swinging in the right direction." She slashed the air horizontally, not even attempt to hit the African. However, he felt a blade cut into his abdomen. Not far enough to spill guts, but blood gushed out onto the floor. Gritting his teeth, Ekundayo wrapped an arm around the wound and jumped back to a safe distance. The necklace bright glow returned and rubble flew in front of him, piecing together into a roughly made wall. It didn't slow the emo at all.

Like the pillar the wall fell away as fine dust before her advance. Backing up, the African pointed a finger at her. Ever piece of rubble in the immediate area rose into air and shot toward the emo. She gave them a quick glance before leaping back. The rubble meshed together into a huge clump and fell to the ground.

The African rushed up to the man-made boulder and slugged it, sending it skidding across the ground. Alice smirked and slice in the direction of the boulder. Just as it reached her a fine line formed in the middle of it; the two pieces fell apart at her feet.

"Alice," said the machete, "we need to stop resonating."

"Why?" asked the emo in a disappoint tone, "we're just starting to have some fun."

"Because too much strain is being put on your body," shouted the weapon. "You may not care about taking a beating, but I won't let you kill yourself."

Shaking her head, the emo said, "We can't stop now. Not until..."

From behind the African the emo heard footsteps coming this way. A wry grin crept onto her face as she said, "Not until our late party crasher arrive." With that said she dashed toward the African, letting the point of the blade drag across the floor.

Looking her way, Eyundayo sighed. From both the front and back he was being rushed. He turned off the magical shield early since it proved useless against the emo. However, the incoming meister seemed more welcoming then the demon before him. So he turned around and run. He didn't even bother to attack Crona as he dashed by him.

The scythe meister came to a halt and turned around to stare at the African in confusion. "About time you showed up," shouted Alice as he walked up to him. She whispered to her weapon, "You may stop resonating now." The machete was more than happily to broke off the resonance. Within second it returned back to normal.

Glancing her way, Crona said, "I would have thought that you be finish with him by now."

Alice shrugged. "He's tougher then he looks. Stop wasting time with small chat and get going. I have no idea how far ahead the enemy is but I wouldn't be surprise if they're close to the Kishin." She furrowed her brow at the worried look he gave her. "Get going Pinkie. There's no time to worry about me."

Reluctantly, Crona nodded his head. As he rushed by the emo Alice turned her attention back on the African. "Sorry for the interruption. I'm ready to continue." Their battle recommence with her rushing the African. The emo did her best to ignore the pain in her joints as she swung the machete.

Free raise his head. Sniffing the air, he grimaced. "We're almost there," he stated. Eruka nodded, but said nothing. Traveling down a narrow hallway, the image of three large eyes, printed in the floor, stared madly at the odd group, daring them to continue on.

Soon enough they entered into a room, though this was of little importance. The door, however, was. Wood colored dark crimson, golden knobs protruded out of it. The same eyes in the hallway rested on the door, disturbing all that entered its gaze. There was no apparent handle but Free thought little of this. Getting on his feet, the werewolf pressed his hands onto the doors and pushed. With ease they parted before him. Free and Eruka entered the room- the witch ordered her familiar to guard the entrance.

Nothing about the large, room seemed right. Red, wooden, square poles, reaching for a ceiling shrouded in darkness, littered the place. Yellowed tags with strange symbols on them covered the poles. In the middle of the room a wooden idol of some sort stood. It was hard to describe, but it looked as if multiple, wooden arms stuck from a thin body while an oddly shaped head rested on top. In front of the idol, hanging by ancient, iron chains, was a huge, pale bag. On that bag were the three eyes- the eyes of the Kishin.

"This place looked to be an ancient worshipping ground," stated Free as he walked toward the bag.

Eruka followed the werewolf, scanning the room over like a scared prey. She quickly turned to her right, thinking that she heard something. There was nothing there. Shaking her head, she turned around to be stared down by a tall person.

By tall we are talking about seven, eight feet total and extremely thin. Old, tan scarves lined with the Kishin's eye encircled the neck and head. A red, pinstriped blazer lay upon several layers of clothing while baggy, black jeans and a mass of fabric covered the top of black shoes.

The frog witch stared at the person, paralyzed in place by fear. A crack formed in the scarves, opening up to reveal a mouth full of ridiculously rounded teeth. That did little to lessen the terror as the mouth clamped onto her face and ripped the skin away.

Startled to a stop by screaming, Free turned around to found Eruka on her knees. Hands covered her face as whimpered. "I can't do this anymore," she shouted at the top of her voice. "I'm going back home and hibernating."

Going over to the witch, Free dropped to a knee. "Eruka," said the confused werewolf. "What's wrong?"

"My face," she yelled.

"What about it?" She didn't reply. Free moved his hands to uncover her face, but stopped and thought better of it. "Come on Eruka," he said in a somewhat soothing tone. "Let me see your face." Slowly but surely the hands moved away.

Free's eyes widen with shock. Where facial features should be a mass of scarves and a large gasping mouth replace it. In one swift motion the mouth gripped onto his face and tore the skin away. "No," shouted Free, "I can't die! I am immortal!"

Next thing he knew he felt a stinging pain in his neck. Sitting on his butt, he stared blankly onto the not twisted form of Eruka. The witch held a wooden stake to her neck, ready to drive it in. Halfway through the back of his neck a guillotine blade drew blood. In utter disgust the soon-to-be suicide weapons were thrown to the floor.

"What just happen?" Eruka stuttered.

"It's the madness," said Free as he rubbed the newly formed scar on his neck. "We're in the right place alright." He turned his gaze on the bag. "And I'm guessing that sack of skin over there is where the Kishin is being held."

Without a word the witch took the suitcase from her back and laid it on the ground. She then formed her hands into a square while chanting, "Rib-bit, rib-bit, rib-bit." The suitcase glow a light blue. It snapped open, revealing a ridiculous, large syringe containing a thick, black fluid. Lying beside it was a long, thick needle that children feared to see in a hospital. The two objects floated in front of the witch. In one fluid motion she assembled the pieces together, holding the complete set in her hands.

"Let get this over with," she said as she started for the sack.

A loud bang drew Eruka's and Free's attention to the door. Eruka's familiar burst through the doors and landed in front of Free. The dazed tadpole lay there, unmoving. "Tadpole Jackson!" shouted the confuse witch. A little too late did she notice the two meister standing in the doorway.

One quick scanned of the room and Kid's eyes fell upon the syringe in the witch's hands. "Black*Star," he shouted as he pointed his gun at the witch. "Stop her." Pulling the triggers, he unleashed a hailstorm.

Eruka just stood there a little slow to process the events happening before her. Free, however, threw himself in front of the witch, his arms extended out. The bullets thudded hard against his chest, but the werewolf stood firmly. "Eruka," he shouted, "go!" With a nod of acknowledgment the witch sprinted for the sack.

She got all of a dozen feet before Black*Star appeared right in front of her. Skidding to a stop, the witch backpedaled as the assassin neared her. "Where do you think you're going?" asked the assassin. Just as he reached for the syringe Tadpole Jackson tackled him to the ground.

"Alright Jackson," the witch happily exclaimed.

"Stupid tadpole," Black*Star shouted in rage. He got on top of the familiar and stomped his foot onto its head. "Get out of the way."

"Thank you Jackson," whispered the teary eye witch as she run for the Kishin. "You were the best tadpole a girl can have. I'll never forget you're sacrifice."

Kid, busy with keeping Free in place, noticed Eruka nearing the sack. "Black*Star," he shouted.

"Don't worry Kid," shouted the assassin. "I got this,"- holding the ninja sword away from him- ", Tsubaki, enchanted Blade Mode!" Within seconds the sword lengthened several feet and its metal turned pitch black. The assassin dashed toward the witch who was getting dangerously close to the sack.

At the last couple feet the witch pulled the syringe back and thrust the needle forward. It struck the sack, but it did not penetrate the skin. "Come on," said Eruka as push the syringe forward with all her might. Before the needle could broke through the enchanted sword slice the syringe in half. The witch stumbled back. Blood splatter everywhere as half of the syringe clattered to the floor.

Standing beside the witch, Black*Star smirked. "Sorry but no Kishin revival today."

"Black*Star," said Kid, voice grim. "You might want to take a second look." Confused by this statement the assassin looked behind him. To his shock and horror an empty, syringe protruded from the sack.

"But how," said the assassin, falling to his knees.

"You're sixth sense," said the reaper, "it succumbed to the madness when least suspected it."

The entire room became silent. Eruka back away from the sack to a save distance. Putting his arms down, Free looked over his shoulders. Black*Star stayed on his knees, disbelieving his failure while Kid kept a watchful eye on the sack.

At first, nothing happened. Then something within the skin press against its side. The Kishin has awakened.

* * *

><p>Defiantly not the best chapter ever. At less we're almost done with the whole Kishin being release chapters. As always, please review. I like to here you're guys criticism.<p> 


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